


The Untold Tales: A Prompt Fest Collection

by Tov01



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Betrayal, Blood Magic, Breaking and Entering, Comfort, Cravings, Dancing Lessons, Demons, Drunkenness, Duelling, Dysfunctional Family, Embarrassment, F/F, F/M, Family, Gen, Gift Giving, Grief/Mourning, Hangover, Healing, Infertility, Injury, Insomnia, Letters, Loneliness, Meeting the Parents, Miscarriage, Nightmares, Pregnancy, Racism, Reunions, Rite of Tranquility, Satinalia, Shapeshifting, Shovel Talk, Sickfic, Tea Parties, The Fade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-07 03:16:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 39
Words: 25,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1883070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tov01/pseuds/Tov01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of prompts from the Dragon Age Prompt Fest.</p><p>Shipping Chapters:<br/>Merrill/m!Hawke: 1 5 6 7 8 12 17 26 31 32<br/>Anders/f!Hawke: 2 14 30 35 36<br/>Leliana/f!Cousland: 3 9 13 25<br/>Morrigan/m!Amell: 15 24 36<br/>Josephine/f!Adaar: 18 19 20 21 22 23 27 28 29 33 36 37<br/>Cassandra/m!Cadash: 34</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. There is a certain beauty in darkness

**Prompt: There is a certain beauty in darkness**

 

Merrill can feel the power in her blood as it drips out of her hand and swirls around the piece of glass in front of her, binding it to the shard of the Eluvian. A lesser mage may have become intoxicated by it. Merrill could feel how easy it would be to let this power consume her, but she knew better. She knew to give the power she wielded the respect it deserves.  
  
A sudden creak from behind her caused Merrill to lose her concentration, and nearly let the glass shatter on the floor. “Who’s there?” she asked, reaching for her staff, her mind suddenly remembering everything Anders had ever said about Templars.  
  
“It’s just me, Merrill.”  
  
Hawke. It’s just Hawke. Merrill felt herself relax, letting her staff fall back to the floor. “Creators, you startled me!” she said, and turned around to look at him. Hawke was leaning against the door frame, staff on his back. He had an odd look on his face that she couldn’t quite place, but…  
  
Creators! He saw her use blood magic, didn’t he? Merrill tried not to panic. Out of everyone she knew, Hawke was one of the few that didn’t seemed much bothered by her blood magic, but she still felt cautious. Even Varric was a little scared of her sometimes, she knew. “So what brings you here, Hawke?” she asked, as she tried to get her thoughts in order.  
  
“What, I can’t come visit my favorite blood mage?” Wait, does that mean he knew another blood mage? Or… was this another of Hawke’s jokes? It was hard to keep it all straight in her head sometimes. Then she realized that Hawke called her his favorite, and felt her cheeks burn red. _Keep it together, Merrill._  
  
“Actually,” Hawke continued, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. About…” He coughed nervously. “About blood magic.”  
  
Merrill tilted her head, not sure where this was going. “Blood Magic? Whatever for? Not that I mind, really, I just…” Merrill forced herself to stop babbling. “Sorry, what was your question?”  
  
Hawke fidgeted, and Merrill realized that she had never seen him look this nervous before. It took him a few moments to work up the nerve to continue. “You don’t have to learn it from a dem… a spirit, do you?”  
  
Merrill thought about that. “I don’t think so. Spirits are just usually the only ones willing to teach it, outside of Tevinter, anyway.” Merrill stopped, the point of Hawke’s question suddenly becoming clear. “Hawke, you don’t… you’re not asking to learn, are you?”  
  
“It does seem like a useful thing to have, doesn’t it,” Hawke said, a nervous grin on his face.  
  
“Blood magic isn’t a toy, Hawke,” Merrill insisted. “You have to treat it seriously.”  
  
Hawke’s grin faltered. “I can be serious when I need to be,” Hawke said, for once not in the joking tone she had come to expect of him. Merrill found that she could believe him.  
  
“But, why?”  
  
Hawke hung his head. “I still worry about the Templars, you know,” he said. “Ever since Carve joined them-“  
  
“You don’t think Carver would send the Templars to get you, do you?” Merrill asked, aghast.  
  
“No!” Hawke said quickly. “Not willingly, anyway, but…” Merrill frowned. She never saw him this worried before. She always thought he was so brave and fearless. “But you can never be too careful with Templars," he said finally with a note of grim determination. It hurt to see him like this, where he couldn’t fully trust his own brother. “And I… saw what you were doing earlier.” Merrill stifled a gasp, resisting the urge to try and hide the evidence. “It was… It was beautiful.”  
  
Merrill’s eyes opened wide. “Do you really think so?” She knew that he tolerated her blood magic, but she never knew that he saw what she saw. The beauty in the darkness. “I’m not sure how good a teacher I’d be, but… come back tomorrow. I’ll see what I can do.”  
  
Hawke breathed a visible sigh of relief, his grin returning. “See you tomorrow, then,” he said, winking as he showed himself out the door.


	2. Ash fell from the sky

**Prompt: Ash fell from the sky**

 

Marian looked on in horror at the destruction around her. _Anders did this,_ she thought. _My Anders. And I helped. Oh, Maker._ She tried to tell herself that the tears in her eyes was from the ash hanging in the air, but she knew this to be a lie.

“Anders, what have you done?” she asked, voice wavering. _What have I done?_ Anders looked away, unable to meet her eyes.

“I'm sorry, love. I had to do something,” Anders said. “I couldn’t let the injustice of the circle continue. I had to take a stand.”

Marian blinked back tears. “I might have understood if you only told me!”

“You can’t seriously have condoned this!” Sebastian exclaimed, aghast. “The brutal death of an innocent woman of faith? Someone you knew.  Who trusted you!”

“I wanted to tell you!” Anders said. “But what if you stopped me? Or worse, what if you wanted to help? I couldn’t let you do that. The world needs to see this. Then we can all stop pretending that the circle is a solution. And if I pay for that with my life, then I pay. Perhaps-“

“You can’t ask me to kill you Anders! I just… I can’t. Anders, come with me.”

"What?" Anders head snapped around. "You mean... stay with you?" A look of fragile hope spread across his face. "Marian-"

“No!” screamed Sebastian, his eyes burning with anger. “You cannot let this _abomination_ walk free! He dies, or I am returning to Starkhaven. And I will bring such an army with me on my return that there will be nothing left of Kirkwall for these maleficarum to rule!”

Marian didn’t hesitate. She stood up to Sebastian and slapped him as hard as she could. “You!” She stuttered furiously. “You’re no better than Meredith! Get out!”

“Hawke!”

Marian swung her staff around and sent a spirit bolt flying at Sebastian’s feet. “OUT!” _Out before I have to kill you, too._ Sebastian said nothing, merely looked at her with furious disappointment before he turned around and walked away. Marian continued to stand defiantly until Sebastian was long out of sight, until her knees finally bent under her, and tears began to streak down her face.


	3. The fires at midnight

**Prompt: The fires at midnight**

 

Elissa stared into the dying light of the campfire, trying to escape from the latest dream of the Archdemon. That one had woken up Alistair, too, but he had already found the courage to go back to bed. Elissa wasn’t feeling up to the task just yet. “You know I can’t sleep once Oghren gets snoring,” she told him. She thinks that he almost believed her.  
  
She heard the flap to her tent open, and she doesn’t need to turn around to know that Leliana was coming out. A moment later, Elissia felt her warm body leaning against her, arm wrapped across her shoulder.  
  
“Hey,” Leliana said.  
  
Elisia smiled. “Hey, yourself.”  
  
“I missed you,” Leliana said, laying her head on Elissia’s shoulder, “when I woke up and you weren’t there.”  
  
Elissia squeezed Leliana’s shoulders. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“Don’t be. I know you’re having the dreams again.” Elissia's face fell at the mention of the dreams. “They’re getting worse, aren’t they?”  
  
Elissia was silent for several long moments. “The Archdemon is restless,” she finally said, “I think… I think it may be planning on coming to the surface soon.”  
  
“And you’ll be there, the Dashing Heroine to save the day.”  
  
Elissia looked up, smiling playfully. “And win the lovely lady’s heart,” she teased.  
  
Leliana giggled. “Oh, I think we’re past that part of the story.”  
  
They stayed in silence for several more moments, staring at the fire until Leliana finally succumbed to sleep against Elissia’s shoulder.


	4. Germaphobe

**Prompt: Germaphobe**  
  
Florian Phineas Horatio Aldebrant, Esquire, was not very impressed by the outside world. It was full of dirt and bird droppings and mabari slobber. And the sun was too bright. Really, he couldn’t understand why anyone would want to live out here.  
  
“Hurry up, _Flora_. We have a long walk ahead of us.”  
  
“Yes, yes. Coming.”  
  
Ah yes, Daylen Amell, Hero of Fereldan, and complete pain in the arse. Seriously, you save the world from the blight just once, and-  
  
Finn froze when he felt a cold tongue lick his left hand. Slowly, he brought his hand up, to find it full to brimming with dog slobber. Finn shook out his hand, which he immediately regretted as some of the slobber splattered onto his robes. He turned around to find Amell’s dog looking completely unrepentant, and making barks that he was sure was laughter. Finn turned his nose up and continued walking. He would not be provoked by some _dog_ , no matter how dirty.


	5. Deepest Fear

**Prompt: Deepest Fear**

 

Hawke struggled against the Templars holding him back. Across from him, Merrill was similarly held back, her face bloodied and bruised, her eyes wide with terror.  
  
“Apostate,” the Templar captain said to Merrill. “You have been found guilty of using blood magic. You will henceforth undergo the Right of Tranquility-“  
  
“NO!” Hawke screamed, trying desperately to reach for his magic through the Templar’s Holy Smite, but to no avail. One of the Templars bashed his head with the pommel of his sword, reopening the cuts on his forehead. “Stay quiet, Champion, if you don’t want the brand yourself.” Hawke didn’t care. He would gladly take the brand if it meant that Merrill would be free.  
  
The Templar captain pulled out a branding iron, glowing the unmistakable blue of Lyrium, and positioned it over Merrill’s forehead. Hawke tried once again to break free, but his arms felt like lead and refused to move. He could only watch in horror as the brand was pressed into Merrill’s skin. Her screams tore at his heart.  
  
After an eternity, the screaming stopped, and the brand was removed, leaving the sunburst pattern of the Chantry behind. Merrill looked at him, but her eyes were the dead, soulless gaze of the Tranquil.  
  
“MERRILL!”  
  
Hawke found himself in his bedroom, drenched in sweat. Beside him, he felt someone stir. He looked, and saw Merrill lying beside him. His eyes drifted to her forehead, which was bare. Of course it would be, he realized, it had just been a dream; but the feelings of helplessness and despair refused to leave him.  
  
“Hawke?” Merrill asked sleepily, her eyes fluttering open. “Is everything all right?” Hawke wrapped his arms around Merrill and pressed a kiss to her lips.  
  
“Just a bad dream,” he said, gently rubbing his hand along the length of her forearm. “Go back to sleep.” Merrill nodded sleepily, resting her head on his chest and closing her eyes, sleep soon taking her. Hawke laid in bed, wishing sleep could take him just as easily, yet dreading what else might come after him when he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I kind of forgot that mages are normally conscious and aware in the Fade. Just roll with it.


	6. Lovers in a Dangerous Time

**Prompt: Lovers in a Dangerous Time**  
  
Hawke rubbed small circles in Merrill’s back, trying to comfort her as she vomited over the side of the Siren’s Call II. Merrill had been miserable ever since they stepped onto the ship to flee Kirkwall, and despite every remedy he and Isabela tried, it wasn't getting better. “So, I take it the herbs Isabela gave you still aren’t working?” Hawke asked once Merrill seemed to be finished. His small smile died, however, when he saw Merrill’s eyes brimming with tears. “Merrill, what is it?”  
  
“Hawke,” Merrill said, her voice shaky. “Isabela… doesn’t think it’s seasickness. Or not just seasickness.”  
  
“Merrill? What do you mean?”  
  
“I’m not just sick. I’m tired all the time, and I can't stand the smell of fish anymore, and… and my courses are late.”  
  
“You… what?”  
  
“I’m two months late, Hawke.” Merrill wrapped her arms around her stomach and curled in around herself. “Hawke… I think I’m pregnant.  
  
Hawke could feel his mind shutting down, unable to comprehend what it was hearing. She couldn’t be pregnant, could she? But as her words sank in, he realized that yes, she absolutely could. He looked up and saw Merrill was still curled up against herself, tears streaking down her face. He cradled her head in his hands, wiping away her tears with his thumbs. He moved to kiss her, but her mouth still had an overpowering smell of vomit, so he kissed her forehead instead.  
  
“We’re going to have a baby,” Hawke said at last, a small smile creeping onto his face.  
  
Merrill let out a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh. “Yes, we are,” She said, wrapping her arms around him, fresh tears threatening to fall. “It’s just…” She looked down, not sure how to continue. “It’s just… this isn’t how I wanted to start a family,” she said sadly.  
  
“I know.” They were fugitives now, on the run from the brink of war. They couldn't have chosen a more inconvenient time if they had tried. But right now, he wouldn’t change anything for the world.


	7. Food: A love story

**Prompt: Food: A love story**  
  
  
“Hawke?”  
  
Hawke looked down to where Merrill lay curled up against his chest. “Yes, dear?”  
  
“I _really_ want some pickles.”  
  
Hawke smiled, trying not to feel disappointed that he had just fallen asleep. This was another one of his wife’s pregnancy cravings, and he knew better than to get in the way. He pressed a kiss to her lips. “You’re lucky Isabela really likes pickles.” It was crazy how many bottles of the stuff Isabela bought every time they made port somewhere.  
  
Hawke rolled over to reach for his pants. “Cheese, too,” Merrill said to his back as he stumbled to put his pants on in the dark.  
  
“Of course,” he said, finally getting both legs into his clothes, and now working on his boots. “Any other requests?”  
  
“No. Just please hurry.”  
  
Hawke stood up once his boots were fastened. “You’ll barely even know I was gone.” He gave Merrill another kiss, and was out the door.  
  
Hawke was lucky this time. The ship’s larder was recently stocked with both pickles and cheese. He didn’t want to think about the times that she craved something that they didn’t have. The worst was the time she craved oranges. When he told her that they had run out, she had alternated between crying, snapping that he must be the worst husband in existence, and apologizing and crying some more. He had never felt more helpless.  
  
“Look what I got!” Hawke said when he returned. Merrill was looking at the food in his hands as if they were the most magnificent things she’d ever seen. Her hands were literally trembling in anticipation. “Wow, you got it bad,” he said, handing over the jar. Merrill began devouring pickles the moment it was in her hands. It was almost obscene the way she was eating.  
  
“Do you and your pickles want some privacy?” he joked.  
  
“Not now, Hawke,” she snapped, other hand reaching out for the cheese

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since writing this, I learned that a snarky Hawke expresses a deep dislike of pickles in Mark of the Assassin, which in light of this fic I found far funny that it had any right to be.


	8. On the Run

**Prompt: On the Run**

Hawke’s first view of the Rivaini port town of Kumari was not all that impressive. It appeared to be comprised of nothing but a collection of ramshackle huts, the occasional stone building, and surprisingly well-maintained docks. It would have been nothing more than a small fishing village, but it’s location at the very southern tip of the Rivaini mainland meant that ships to and from Llomerryn and Eastern Rivain often stopped to resupply.

“We’ll be safe here, right Isabela?” Merrill asked from the railings next to him.

“I told you, Kitten, us Rivaini don’t freak out about magic the way the rest of the world does. As long as you don’t do anything flashy in front of foreigners or Qunari emissaries, you’ll be fine.”

“I’ll just be glad to be on dry land again,” Hawke said. He turned his back to the sea and wrapped his arms around Merrill’s waist, his hands resting on the swell of her stomach. Merrill placed her hands on top of his and nodded in agreement. Merrill’s pregnancy had been a difficult one, and the conditions aboard ship hadn’t made it any easier.

“Well, you’re in just the right place, then!” Isabela smiled. “Now, when we dock, I’ll take you to the local Seer, Meera. I helped her out with a pair of Templars from Antiva who were being too nosy, so she owes me one. She’ll help you settle in and keep an eye out for you. Now, seers are highly respected in Rivain, so Hawke, you’ll need to keep your snarky comments to yourself.”

Hawke opened his mouth, but whatever snarky retort he was about to say died once he saw Isabela’s withering gaze. He swallowed nervously. “I’ll be sure to be on my best behavior,” he said instead.

“You better.”

“Will we ever see you again?” Merrill asked, her eyes beginning to fill with tears at the very thought of never seeing her best friend again.

“Oh, Kitten, don’t cry. Of course you’ll see me again,” Isabela said comfortingly. “I’ll come back as soon as I can. I’ll even bring back something for the baby.”

“I’d like that,” Merrill sniffled.

“I’m sure our kid will love their Auntie Isabela,” Hawke added helpfully.

“Oh, Maker!” Isabela exclaimed, “Don’t say that! It makes me feel old.”

“Come on!” Hawke said cheerfully. “Everyone needs a fun aunt. I wish I had one. All I had was Uncle Gamlen.”

“I suppose I could get used to it,” she said, smiling wistfully. “Well, I got to go make sure this lot doesn’t sail us into the pier.” Isabela gave Merrill one last big hug before resuming her captainly duties.


	9. Put on some pants!

**Prompt: Put on some pants!**

 

“Commander, we have a problem.”

Elissa Cousland looked up from her endless supply of paperwork. “What is it, Nathaniel?”

“It’s Oghren. He’s drunk. Well, more than usual, I mean. He… refuses to put his pants on.”

Elissa resisted the urge to sigh and bury her head into the desk. She got up and headed for the door, Nathaniel falling in step behind her. “What happen to get him in this sorry state?”

“Said he had an argument with his wife.”

“That’s hardly unusual.”

“It was about his son,” Nathaniel continued. “Felsi said Oghren was a bad influence. That’s what I think he said anyway - he was well in his cups by that point.”

“I see,” she said, sighing audibly this time. For all Oghren’s faults, he loved his son more than anything. This wasn’t the first time Oghren and Felsi argued about their son, but from his reaction, this time must have been especially bad.

They could tell they were nearing the dining hall by the sounds of a dozen Wardens eating together. But one sound stood out amongst the rest. “Is Oghren…” Elissa began, “No, he can’t be.” But sure enough, when the rounded they corner into the dining hall, there was Oghren, standing on a table in all his pantsless glory, belting out a drinking song as only a drunken dwarf can.

_“Thar'sh neva been a Paragon o’ Wishdom or o’ Thinkin’,_  
 _An’ though I tried a time or two, I… I ner got raished for stinkin’,_  
 _But hang round here long *hic* long enough and don' ya go a blinkin’,_  
 _'Cuz shomeday I’z gonna be the Paragon o’ Drinkin’!”_

Oghren finished his song with a loud belch and another swig from his goblet, to the Warden’s mild applause. “Maker preserve us,” Elissa sighed, and pushed herself into the room. “Oghren!”

“Command’r,” Oghren slurred. “Wash’ts brin… bringsh ya here?”

“Oghren, you’re not wearing pants.”

“They in league with tha… tha schleets! I jusht knows it!”

Elissa’s head fell forward, her hand rising up to support it. _Of all the stupid_ \- “Oghren, get off the table and get over here. And you!” She pointed at one of the junior Wardens. “Get this dwarf another pair of pants!”

“Commander?”

“Now!” The Warden ran off like he had a dragon flying behind him. Oghren, for his part, had already jumped onto the bench, several Wardens reaching out to steady him when he nearly fell off. “Get off!” He snapped. “I can handle a *hic* a stone-forshaken chair!”

Elissa sat down on a bench in a secluded part of the dining hall. “Come here, Oghren,” she said, patting the empty bench next to her. Oghren stumbled over there, only tripping once before sitting himself down. “Now, what’s this about Felsi?”

Oghren turned his head away, staring into the distance. “I… I don’ wanna talk bout it,” he mumbled.

“Oghren, we talked about this. Drinking away your problems doesn’t make things any better.”

“I know,” Oghren said maudlinly. “It’z jusht… It’z…” Oghren made a gurling noise, and proceeded to vomit on the floor, barely missing Elissa’s boots.

“Feel better?” Elissa said a minute later, when Oghren no longer seemed in danger of retching up anything else. Oghren coughed, but nodded affirmative. Elissa handed him a cup of water, signaling with her other hand for one of the Wardens to clean up the mess. “Here, wash it out with this.” Oghren gargled it loudly and spat into the vomit on the floor.

“Now,” she said, taking the cup back from the dwarf, “what did Felsi say to get you into this mess?” Oghren remained silent for a while, long enough for the junior Warden to return with some pants. Elissa took them from the boy, not wanting to disturb Oghren just yet.

"I'm a bad father, ain't I?" he said at last, sounding decidedly more sober.

"Oghren..."

"I'm gone weeks at a time, an' when I'm not, I'm getting my ass stone drunk. It's a wonder tha little nuglet even knows who I am. Maybe... maybe she's right. Maybe he would be better off without me."

"Oghren, your son loves you!" Oghren grunted noncommittally. "You know he does. He adores you. You're all he talks about when he visits the keep. Come on, let’s just get these pants on you, and you can sleep it off and we can talk to Felsi in the morning."

“Na tired,” Oghren said grumpily.

“I can get Marcus to help with that.”

“Tha mage ain’t gettin’ any o’ his sparkly fingers on me!”

Elissa was about to respond when the seneschal entered the dining hall. “Commander, there’s someone here to see you.”

“I’m a bit busy at the momen- Leliana!”

The red-haired woman walked into the dining hall, smiling brightly when she caught sight of the Warden Commander. “Elissa! It’s been too long!”

Elissa jumped up, forgetting she still had the pair of pants in her hand, and rushed to embrace her lover, who she hadn't seen in almost six months. “I missed you,” she said, lips descending into a kiss. Leliana’s eyes fluttered shut at the contact. The moment couldn’t last forever, however, and soon the ugly smells of the dining hall finally wafted over. Leliana’s eyes snapped to Oghren and the pile of vomit that a Warden was trying desperately to clean up.

“Trouble?” Leliana asked when their kiss broke. Elissa sighed wearily.

“You could say that.”

“Well,” Leliana said, smiling mischievously, “why don’t you finish here, then you can meet me in your chambers to catch up.” Elissa pulled her into one last kiss.

“See you soon, then,” she said, watching as Leliana made her way out of the hall. Once she was out of sight, Elissa turned back to Oghren, who was grinning widely.

“Oh, don’t mind ol’ Oghren. Go see to your lady friend.”

“Oghren, get your mind out of the gutter!” Oghren raised his eyebrows lecherously, and Elissa threw the pants at him. “And put your damn pants on!”

Oghren threw her a sloppy salute. "Yes, Commander."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Drinking Song can be heard in Dwarvish in the Tapster's Tavern in Origins.


	10. Famous last words

**Prompt: Famous last words**

 

 Ser Alrik backed himself into a corner of the cavern as Marian Hawke bared down on him. His sword laid broken and useless on the cavern floor, his breastplate cracked open by the maul of the tattooed elf, and he found himself too tired for even the most basic smite. He was finished, and he knew it.

 “Please, Messere Hawke! Have mercy!”

"Mercy?" Hawke snarled ferally. This man, who would make mages tranquil and use them for his personal harem, would dare ask for mercy? She raised her staff above her, ready to strike. “Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and _do not falter!_ ” Marian punctuated the last words by plunging the bladed end of her staff through Alrik’s broken breastplate. Alrik’s face was frozen into a visage of confused horror as he gurgled out his last breaths.

 “Shit, Hawke,” Varric said as he walked up behind her, something not unlike fear briefly flashing through his eyes. “That’s… that’s not like you.”

 It wasn’t, of course. Usually she was the first to try and find a peaceful solution, and never had she reveled in bloodlust. But this entire situation had struck a nerve like few things ever had. There was a time and place for peace, but clearly it was not here, in this cave that smelled of Lyrium and death.


	11. I hate the Fade

**Prompt: I hate the Fade**

 

Elissa looked around blearily, not sure where she was. She had vague memories of demons and mages, but they weren’t making any sense. Her eyes finally focused on the room, and saw that it was her bedroom in Highever. _I must have been dreaming_ , Elissa concluded.

There was a knock on the door, and Elissa quickly got out of bed and put a robe over her night clothes. “Who is it?”

“Well, the sleeping beauty finally awakes!” _Fergus!_ Her mind screams, and she almost breaks the door in her rush to open it. There was her brother, smiling cheekily at her, and she quickly wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. “Fergus! I thought I’d never see you again!” The words seemed strange after she said them. Where else would her brother be but her family home?

“Well, I’m right here,” Fergus said, chuckling. “Good thing you’re up. We have guests to greet, and you need to get ready.”

“I don’t have to put on a dress, do I?” Elissa asked, sighing resignedly.

“It is the proper thing to do.”

“Fergus, when have you ever known me to do the ‘proper thing’?”

An odd look crossed Fergus’ face, but was quickly replaced with a smile. “I’m sure you could get away with wearing your armor. We’re all so proud of your skills, after all.” Elissa smiled at that. “I’ll let your squire know she’s needed on the way out. Meet us in the Great Hall when you’re done.”

“Of course, brother. See you soon.”

Elissa closed her door and began to dress in her white linens. A short time later, her squire, Neila, arrived. “Your armor, milady,” she said, presenting the armor with a flourish.

Elissa smirked at her, and reached over to take some of the armor out of her hands. “That’s enough miladying out of you. It’s just the two of us in here.” As soon as their hands were free, she pulled her into a light kiss. Yet as soon as their lips met, she was inundated with a pervading sense of wrongness, something off in a way she couldn’t articulate. She broke off the kiss quickly, confused by these feelings.

Neila looked up into Elissa’s eyes. “Something wrong, milady?” Elissa turned her head away so as to not meet her gaze. Neila only kept calling her milady when she was annoyed or angry.

“Well, I… It’s nothing.” She cleared her throat. “Let’s get this on, shall we?”

Neila picked up Elissa's breastplate and began fitting it onto her body. Neila had become well used to putting on her armor by now, so it didn’t take long to put on her full suit of armor.

“Time to face our guests,” Elissa said as she made the final adjustments.

“Until tonight, then,” Neila said coyly.

“Of course,” Elissa said, running a gloved hand gently over Neila’s face. She felt strangely stiff in her hand, as if she didn’t know how to react to the contact, but Elissa did not think about it any further. With a deep breath, she turned around and walked through her door, making her way to the Great Hall.

She was not prepared for what she saw inside.

Elissa stood frozen at the door when she saw Arl Howe standing next to her father, Bryce Cousland. Although she could not say why, rage began to burn through her veins at the sight of him. “Oh, pup,” her father said, “There you are! Come in! Howe, you remember my daughter?”

“I see she’s become a lovely young woman,” Howe said in his oily voice. “Pleased to see you again, my dear.”

A guttural scream was ripped from Elissa’s throat, and she reached for her sword. “YOU!” she screamed, pointing her sword at Howe. “You killed my family!” As soon as the words left her, she knew it was true. A flood of memories hit her. She remembered the massacre at Highever, watching Howe's men shoot Neila full of arrows in her bedchamber, seeing Oriana’s and Oren’s bodies, being forced to leave her parents to die and join the Grey Wardens, the battle at Ostagar, and finally coming to the Circle of Magi to recruit the mages, and being ensnared by a Sloth Demon. This was the fade, she now realized, and these were demons.

“Elissa!” Yelled the demon with the face of her father. “Calm yourself!”

“I will not!” Elissa screamed back, and plunged her sword into Howe’s belly. A look of shock crossed Howe’s face, before she pulled out her sword and he fell limp to the floor.

“Foolish child!” snarled the thing that was not her father, in a tone she knew her father would never have used. “We have given you so much, and yet you cast it back in our face! It seems only war and death will satisfy you! May they be your doom!”

The Bryce-Demon took up his sword, and through the doors came demons with the faces of her mother, brother, her sister-in-law Oriana, Neila, and Ser Gilmore, all wielding weapons. Elissa hesitated before turning on Ser Gilmore, not sure she could fight her family, even if they were in fact actually demons. She and Ser Gilmore had sparred many times, and she knew his weaknesses. She feinted right, forcing him to bring up his shield, before smashing her shield into his now unprotected left side. Ser Gilmore groaned in pain, and before he could recover, Elissa spun around and smashed her sword into the back of his legs, forcing him to the ground.

Before Elissa could perform the finishing blow, Oriana threw herself in front of her, preparing to stab with her dagger. Elissa slashed with her sword, and Oriana fell to the floor, screaming. Elissa felt her heart break at the sight. She saw Ser Gilmore struggling to get up, and she smashed her sword into his head before he could succeed.

Elissa turned to face her parents, brother, and lover. One by one they fell to her sword. Her heart broke each time they did, the knowledge that they were demons doing little to ease the pain. Finally, the demons wearing the faces of her loved ones were dead, but Elissa did not let up her guard, waiting for whatever trick the demons would play next.

Elissa felt another demon sneaking up behind her, and swung her sword low. She turned, only to find her sword embedded in the body of young Oren. “Auntie?” the demon said, in a cruelly perfect imitation of her nephew’s voice. The young boy slid off her sword and fell onto the floor, and did not move again. Elissa knew the body on the floor was just a demon, but she felt her eyes begin to water regardless.

“I hate the Fade,” she declared bitterly as she wiped away her tears.


	12. Someone has to strike a pose and bear the weight of well-tailored clothes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place between acts two and three.

**Prompt: Someone has to strike a pose and bear the weight of well-tailored clothes**

 

Garrett sat down on the couch next to Merrill, a stack of mail in hand, sighing dramatically. Ever since the rumor had gotten out that the Champion of Kirkwall had married his Dalish lover, Hightown had been slowly spiraling on its way towards total hysteria. Hawke was surprised that his desk hasn’t broke from all the letters that had piled up on it during their honeymoon.

Hawke picked up the least pompous-looking letter from the pile on his lap, and began to read it out loud. “’We cordially invite you too…’ Another invitation. Wonderful.”

“Who’s this one from?” Merrill asked distractedly from behind her book.

“What? Oh.” He glanced back at the letter. “It’s from Lady Harinford.”

“Oh, I know her!” Merrill declared excitedly, putting her book aside.

“Really?” Hawke raised an eyebrow, wondering if this was yet another noble whose garden Merrill had visited.

She nodded her head vigorously. “Uh, huh! We met in her garden about three months ago.”

Just as Hawke suspected: garden. He smiled at her fondly. “She wouldn’t be one of the nobles who wrote me that angry letter, would she?”

“No.” Merrill said, shaking her head for emphasis. “She wasn’t angry at all. She even invited me for tea!”

“Oh, that was her?” Hawke asked, remembering Merrill’s animated tale about the Noble-Who-Wasn’t-a-Big-Meany. Merrill nodded excitedly in response. “She sound nice,” he said, eyes drifting back to the invitation in his lap. It didn’t seem so easily dismissible now. “Merrill? How would you like to go? To the party, I mean.”

Merrills eyes scrunched up in confusion. “I… suppose it would be nice to see Lady Harinford again. But Garrett, you’ve never wanted to go to a party before.”

“That’s because most nobles are pompous asses,” Hawke quipped immediately.

“But she isn’t-“ Hawke could see the realization flash across Merrill’s face. “Which is why you don’t mind going to her party.”

“If she’s as nice as you say, it shouldn’t be so bad.” Hawke gently clasped his hands in Merrill’s, feeling the ring on her finger, “Besides, we can’t hide from Hightown forever. And I don’t want to. I love you, Merrill. I don’t want to hide you like some dirty little secret. I want the world to know.”

Merrill smiled at him brightly, and moved her hands up his arms to his shoulders. “That’s good,” she said, “because I don’t want to hide either,” and she pulled him into a kiss. Hawke lost himself in her lips for a moment, until Merrill finally broke away.

“So, is that a yes?” Merrill giggled in response. “Good. Of course, if we’re going, we’ll need fancier clothes…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hawke walked up to the Harinford estate in the most ridiculous, ruffle-festooned suit Merrill had ever seen. It was all Merrill could do not to laugh every time she saw him swish around in it, and knowing Hawke, that was exactly the effect he was looking for. Merrill herself was in a long green dress that Isabela had helped pick out for her. It was a lovely dress, Merrill thought, if a bit difficult to walk in. She had tripped the first time she tried, and Hawke had to keep her from falling, but after some practice she was able to navigate in it with no trouble. The part she couldn’t get comfortable with, however, was the shoes. While she appreciated that the sandals gave her toes room to be free, she couldn’t get used to not feeling the earth beneath her feet.

“Ready to go in, Mrs. Hawke?” Hawke asked as they reached the door, grinning stupidly. Merrill didn’t really understand the intricacies of human last names, and thought it was strange to be called a Hawke when everyone’s been calling Garrett that for years, but the look of utter joy on Hawke’s face whenever he called her that was just adorable, so she let him.

“Of course, ma vhenan.”

Hawke knocked on the door, and was answered by a human butler shorter even than Merrill. His eyes lingered on Merrill for a moment, likely having never seen an elf as a guest instead of a servant. “Greetings, Messere,” he said formally. Hawke handed him the invitation, which he quickly read. “Ah, Champion, please come in.” The butler ushered them into the front lounge, a small room with Orlesian statues in the corners. The butler stopped at the entrance to the rest of the estate and turn to the champion.

“Messere,” he said, an air of discomfort breaking through his formal façade, “how should I address your… companion.”

“Merrill,” Hawke said, wrapping an arm around her protectively. “Merrill Hawke.”

To his credit, the butler hardly reacted to that revelation, which Hawke found slightly impressive. “Yes, of course.” The butler stepped through the door into the main room, cleared his throat, and called out, “Messere Garrett Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall, and Messere Merrill Hawke.” The eyes of the room fell upon the couple, and the room fell silent at the realization that not only did Hawke arrive with an elf, but that she was introduced as his wife.

Merrill’s eyes darted across the room, feeling suddenly uncomfortable to be the center of attention. She wondered if this might have perhaps been a bad idea. Hawke wrapped his arm closer around her, trying to soothe her discomfort.

“We don’t have to stay long, if you don’t want,” he whispered. Merrill nodded. She might just take him up on that offer.

“Champion, how wonderful for you to come!” That was Lady Harinford, and at her words, the rest of the room snapped out of its trance and conversation began to flow anew.

“It’s lovely for you to have us!” Hawke declared loudly, stepping forward to greet her. “I must say, your estate is lovely.”

“You honor us, Champion.” Her eyes darted towards Merrill, who inched forward nervously. She knew that Lady Harinford was nice enough in private, but would she be in a room full of capricious nobles. “And mistress Merrill! So good of you to come.” Her smile was as genuine as it had been two months ago, and Merrill smiled back. She wasn’t sure now why she was worried. Lady Harinford seemed almost incapable of petty meanness.

“It’s so nice to see you again,” Merrill said. She paused for a moment, wondering if she should say anything else, before remembering what they were talking about last time she was here. “How are those blue pimpernels coming along?”

Lady Harinford smiled kindly. “They’re doing wonderfully. It was an inspired suggestion.” Merrill beamed proudly at that.

The butler reappeared from the lobby door. “Messere Marlein Selbrech,” he called, and a young noble woman walked in behind him. Lady Harinford smiled at them apologetically. “If you would excuse me, Champion, I have duties I must attend to. I do hope you have an enjoyable evening.” She curtsied to both Hawke and Merrill, before heading off to greet her newest guest.

As soon as she left, Merrill heard a shill voice from her right. “Did you hear how the butler introduced that elf girl!” Babbette de Launcet cried indignantly. “I can’t believe those rumors were actually true!”

“Of course they were true,” her sister Fifi said haughtily. “No one else would have a mage.”

“Girls, please!” cried their mother. “He’s right over there!” Dulci de Launcet caught Hawke looking in their direction, and a wave of panic flashed briefly across her face before being plastered over with a fake smile. Hawke and Merrill shared a glance, both sharing the same thought. As one, they began walking as far away from the de Launcets as possible. They made it halfway across the room before Merrill saw a familiar face in the crowd.

“Varric!” The dwarf looked towards Merrill’s cry, and smiled brightly once he caught sight of them. He saluted them with his oversized wine glass, and began trudging over.

Hawke was just as surprised to see him there as she was. “Varric, you didn’t tell us you were invited!”

“That’s because I wasn’t planning on coming,” Varric whispered cheerfully. “But I couldn’t let Daisy fend off the wolves by herself, could I?”

“That’s good. We could use all the wolf hunters we can get.”

“So, uh, Hawke,” Varric began, gesturing awkwardly at his clothes. “What’s with the… you know…”

Hawke stood up straighter, preening like a rooster. “You like it? I got it just for this evening!”

“Yeah, it’s just that it seems a bit, well…”

“Fluffy?” Merrill added, giggling slightly.

“Yeah, fluffy. Let’s go with that.”

Hawke pouted adorably at Varric. It reminded her of a sad, bearded kitten. “What, can’t a man feel pretty every once and awhile?” Merrill giggled loudly, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I think you look very pretty, ma vhenan.”

Hawke smiled proudly. “Thank you, love.” Hawke turned suddenly, sniffing the air. “What is that heavenly smell?”

“That would be the servants bringing out the roasted boar,” Varric explained.

“Roasted boar? Don’t mind if I do!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hawke and Merrill continued to mingle (and, in Hawke’s case, eat) throughout the evening. Nobles would continually come up to them, congratulating the Champion on his recent marriage. Some of them sounded forced, as if the very idea of addressing an elf as the Champion’s wife made them feel ill, but most of the nobles could at least pretend to be happy for them, if nothing else.

Things had been going so well, until Hawke had left Merrill in an animated conversation with Varric to make another run on the cheese tray. She heard the raised voices first, and when she turned around, she saw Hawke being trapped in a corner of the room by a highly intoxicated noble.

“So, Champion, I heard that you… you shacked up with a knife ear,” the drunken man slurred.

“And I heard that you are drunk,” Hawke snapped back. He tried to move away, but the drunk blocked his path. Merrill didn’t like where this was going, and headed over to intervene.

“Now I’m not opposed to shackin’ up with a knife ear every once in a while, but marriage? Iz never heard of such nonsense!”

“I think you need to leave,” Hawke said, a dangerous edge creeping into his voice, which the drunken man didn’t seem to hear.

Merrill she stepped into the corner, and the drunk turned his wicked gaze on her. “And this must be the missus! Not much to look at, but I bet she’s good in bed.” He grinned lecherously and placed a hand on her buttocks. Merrill recoiled instantly, moving away as if his hand were on fire.

Hawke clenched his jaw furiously, and little sparks of flame began to lick at his fingers, begging for release. Merrill shook her head slightly, warning Hawke off. She knew how to handle handsy shemlen, and it was a lot less messy than what Hawke was obviously planning. “You look tired,” she said to the drunk, hand grasping his shoulder as she weaved a subtle sleep spell over him. “Perhaps you should lie down.” The drunk opened and closed his mouth repeatedly in a futile effort to speak, looking not unlike a fish. Then his eyes closed, and he fell to the floor, snoring. Merrill briefly considered adding a nightmare spell for good measure, but decided that she had already risked enough magic for one evening.

A commotion arose as the guests began to realize what had happened in the corner of the room, and Lady Harinford immediately rushed over. “What happened here?” she demanded.

“I’m afraid one of the guests had too much to drink,” Hawke said, which was close enough to the truth. Lady Harinford looked down at the prone form on the floor and tutted to herself.

“Lord Gerrel never could hold his liquor.”

Merrill gave a small nod to the door, which Hawke immediately understood. “I apologize, Lady Harinford , but my wife appears to be a bit faint from all the excitement,” Hawke said, scooping Merrill up in his arms. “Perhaps it would be best if we returned home.” Merrill nodded into his shoulder and played along, recognizing this as ‘Operation Fainting Merrill,’ one of their pre-arranged escape plans. Hawke quickly walked them through the confused crowd, and out into the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hawke flopped himself onto the bed and sighed wearily. “Well, that went well.” Merrill stared at him for a second before recognizing the sarcasm. She had become proficient at recognizing Garrett’s brand of wit in the years that she had known him, something she took great pride in.

“It wasn’t so bad. Well, except for, you know…”

“I’m sorry, love,” Hawke lamented, “It was my idea that got us into this.”

Merrill crawled into bed next Hawke, and wrapped an arm around him. “It’s not your fault, ma vhenan. We both expected that someone might try to cause trouble for us, and we dealt with it when they did. It went a lot better than we thought it would, though, didn’t it?”

“I supposed it did,” Hawke sighed, not sounding convinced.

Merrill suddenly had an idea, and her face lit up. “Maybe next time we can have the party here, and only invite the people who were nice to us!”

Hawke smiled at that. “I love the way you think.” Hawke pulled Merrill into a light kiss, which quickly heated up into something more. Merrill moaned softly as he deepened the kiss, and he pulled her up on top of him. He ran his hands along the back of her dress, finding the buttons there and slowly undoing them. Merrill ran a hand up and down his chest, probing his suit with increasing frustration. She grunted into his mouth, before pulling away from the kiss. Hawke blinked up at her, gaping in confusion. “Merrill, what is it?” he finally asked.

“Garret, I can’t get your suit off.”


	13. Just Trust Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter references the events of chapter 11

**Prompt: Just Trust Me**

 

Elissa stared deeply into the fire, trying not to think too much about the day’s events. Wynne, the newest addition to her ragtag group of misfits, had set up tent on the other side of the fire, and had mostly succeeded in reading herself to sleep. Her other companions had also retired, leaving Elissa alone by the fire.

The silence was broken by the sound of approaching footsteps. Elissa turned her head and saw Leliana approach. Elissa tried to speak, but the words refused to come out. She turned her gaze back to the fire.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” Leliana asked softly. Elissa nodded slightly, which Leliana took as an affirmative. She settled down next to her and joined her in staring into the fire. They sat in silence, watching the fire burn down, before Leliana finally spoke again.

“You’ve been so quiet since coming back from the circle.” Elissa sighed and closed her eyes. “I’m always here if you want to talk about it.” Elissa nodded shallowly, but said nothing, continuing to gaze into the fire. They stayed like that for a while, before Leliana finally made a motion, as if to leave, that finally moved Elissa to speak.

“In the Circle,” she said hoarsely, turning her head to look at Leliana, “when the demon ensnared us, it… it tried to use a vision of Highever to keep me in the fade. There were demons there, with the faces of everyone I cared about, and… and…” Elissa stopped, unable to find the words. Leliana softly put a hand on hers, gently urging her to continue. “When I realized what they were, they attacked me, and… I had to watch them die again, only this time it was by my hand, and… and I know that they were just demons, but…”

“But it doesn’t make the pain stop.”

Elissa chocked back a sob, trying desperately not to cry. She felt Leliana wrap her arms around her in a fierce hug, and they sat together in silence.

“It’s been two months since Highever,” Leliana said at last, “and you’ve been so busy fighting the darkspawn. I do not think that you have given yourself time to grieve.”

"As you said, I've been fighting darkspawn. I haven't had time," Elissa said bitterly, but that wasn't entirely true. She had gone out of her way to forget the awful things that happened. Yet after what happened in the fade, everything came back and she could no longer forget. Not anymore. "And I have to be strong for everyone else. I can't just... I... I can't."

“Elissa, do you trust me?” Leliana asked gently.

“I… I want to,” Elissa said, her voice exceedingly fragile.

“Then trust me in this. Let me be your strength. I promise that I will not let you fall.”

Elissa gazed into Leliana’s eyes, and at the deep understanding and compassion she saw there, she felt the last of her barriers breaking down. She began to cry, her body wracked with great heaving sobs as she grieved, for her parents, for her nephew and sister-in-law, for her love Neila, for everything she lost that night at Highever. All the while Leliana was there, holding her in her arms, guiding her through her grief, listening patiently as Elissa confessed two months of pent up emotions. At long last, the tears began to subside, and she relaxed into Leliana’s arms, exhausted.

“Maker,” Leliana began to chant softly, “though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm.”

“I shall endure,” Elissa finished tiredly. Elissa had said those words many times in prayer over the last two months, but whereas before it came out sounding hollow and empty, now it seemed hopeful, her grief not so endless. _I shall endure_.

Leliana began to stand, taking Elissa along with her. “Come, let me help you to your tent. We have a long day tomorrow, do we not?” Elissa let her carry her to her tent without protest, already half asleep in her arms.


	14. Under the Weather

**Prompt: Under the Weather**

 

Marian walked in to find Anders hunched over their writing desk. His skin may have been pale and sweaty, and his nose might be runny and stuffed up, but he stayed up working on his manifesto all the same.

“Anders, what are you doing?” Anders spun around, sending several slips of paper tumbling to the ground. He blinked unfocusedly at her for a moment. Marian crossed her arms, waiting for an answer.

“I, um,” he began, his voice nasally from his stuffed nose, “Would you believe me if I said that it’s not what it looks like?”

Marian sighed. “Anders, you’re a healer. You should know better.”

“I know, I just thought of something I needed to write down and got… carried away.”

Marian gave the book on the desk a pointed look. “Did you write it all down, then?”

Anders looked at his manifesto almost longingly. “I… I suppose I can stop for the night.” He slumped his shoulders, resigning himself to the inevitable.

Marian gave him a small smile as she stepped forward and placed a hand around his waist, helping him walk across the room and into their bed. Anders sighed contently as his head hit the pillow.

“Now stay in bed this time,” Marian said. “I know your work is important to you, but it’s not worth making yourself sicker.”

“Mages are suffering all across Thedas,” Anders said petulantly. “I can stand a little discomfort.”

“Anders,” Marian sighed softly, closing her eyes and shaking her head.

“And I know my manifesto doesn’t seem like much,” Anders heedlessly blundered on, “But if I can change the mind of even one person, then it… i… ACHOO!” Anders barely reached for his handkerchief in time.

“Anders, please, get some rest,” Marian said patiently. “You can go back to leading the cause when you feel better.”


	15. Battle injury

**Prompt: Battle injury**

 

“Morrigan, what happened?” Daylen asked, alarmed by the gash slowly dripping blood down her side.

“’Tis nothing but a scratch,” Morrigan replied, turning her injured side away from Daylen, wincing from the discomfort that motion caused. “The brigand who caused this suffered much worse than I.”

Daylen hardly gave the bandit’s frozen corpse a second’s glance, focusing on Morrigan’s wound. “You need to get this looked at. It could get infected.”

“Do not coddle me, Warden,” Morrigan said harshly. “’Tis not the first time I’ve been wounded, and it will not be the last.”

“Morrigan, please let me look at this,” the Warden asked, gazing into Morrigan’s eyes. Morrigan stared back defiantly, and for a while they stood in silence, both stubbornly refusing to move. Finally Morrigan sighed derisively and tore her gaze away.

“Fine, look. It matters not to me.”

Daylen nodded, smiled slightly as he went for his pack to retrieve a cloth and a waterskin. He dampened the cloth and began to carefully clean the wound. Morrigan hissed at him every time he swiped past the gash.

“Must you be so rough?” she complained.

“I’m almost done,” he said in reply. Soon after, he put the cloth down, satisfied that the wound was clean enough for his purpose. He placed his hands around the wound, preparing to cast. He felt Morrigan’s skin shiver slightly under his hands at the contact, but she did not complain. Daylen breathed in and out deeply, letting his healing magic pour into the wound, covering the skin in a bright glow. When he opened his eyes, the gash was gone, replaced with a thin scar running up her abdomen.

Morrigan poked at the scar curiously. “It is… adequate,” she told him.

“High praise from you, Morrigan,” Daylen said, smiling brightly. The tiniest blush crept up her cheek, barely noticeable to anyone who didn’t know to look. This, of course, meant that Daylen saw it plain as day, and he only smiled brighter.

Morrigan looked away, flustered. “I… suppose we… should get going, yes? Yes.” She stood up and left without another word. Daylen chuckled softly to himself and got up to follow, ignoring the strange glare Alistair was giving him.


	16. Fighting the good fight

**Prompt: Fighting the good fight**

 

The fight against the demons at Soldier’s Peak had been a hard one, but in the end, they had won, and the Veil had been repaired. With the fighting done, Elissa turned a critical eye towards Avernus. “It’s over,” he told them, sounding exhausted. “The Veil is strong now. Stronger, at least.” He looked down, shoulders slumped in resignation. “I said I’d submit to judgment, and so I shall. What shall you have of me?”

Elissa gazed at the mage pointedly. She was disgusted by what she found up in Avernus’ tower, and she had expressed herself with such vehemence that she was sure Avernus thought he was going to be executed. But she had something else in mind.

“You should hang for what you did,” she began, “but this is a Blight, and we need every Grey Warden we can find. Can you fight?”

“I, what?” Avernus stuttered, caught off guard.

“Can you fight?”

“I… can fight,” Avernus said, hesitating. “Can I march, might be a better question. I am old, and I doubt I could keep up with you.”

“You can ride in Bodahn’s cart,” Elissa offered, hoping that their Dwarven friend wouldn’t object to another passenger.

Avernus nodded, considering her words. “Yes, yes. Of course. I will come. I will not let it be said that a Grey Warden stood by while the Blight ravished the land.”

“Warden?” Wynne asked, voice verging on panic. “Are you sure it is wise to let this… maleficar join us?”

Elissa studied Wynne carefully. “Whatever he is, he is still a Grey Warden. He has a duty to end the Blight, same as us.”

“That is true,” she said slowly, looking almost disgusted at herself for letting those words pass her lips. “I just… cannot believe that the Grey Wardens would condone blood magic.”

Avernus laughed harshly, the sound of it grating against his throat. “You’re an expert on the Grey Wardens, are you?” he asked with sardonic amusement.

“He… has a point,” Alistair said, looking no more at ease than Wynne at agreeing with a blood mage. “The Wardens have done many… unsavory things in the name of stopping the Blight.” Wynne said nothing, opting to fume in silence. Elissa knew that Wynne had a great respect for the Grey Wardens, and seeing their dirty secrets aired like this must have been disorienting.

“I’ll need to gather some things before we leave,” Avernus said, pushing on. “You two should come as well,” he added, gesturing to Elissa and Alistair. “I suspect we have much Warden business to discuss.”

Elissa nodded. “Yes, I believe we do.”


	17. Clean Shaven

**Prompt: Clean shaven**

 

Garrett stared at the razor in Isabela’s hand with horrified fascination. “You… you can’t be serious!”

“Hawke,” Isabela sighed, “you have to shave it off. It’s too recognizable.”

“I thought the whole point of going to Rivain was that no one would recognize us!”

“I’m _hoping_ no one will recognize you. But Hawke, the Seekers are looking for you everywhere. You’ve seen the posters they’ve put up.”

“Those posters look nothing like me,” Hawke retorted.

Isabela snorted. “No, but they got your beard right.”

Hawke’s eyes shifted across the room, looking for escape. “I’ve spent years growing this beard! You can’t ask me to shave it. You might as well ask me to chop off my arm!”

“Oh, stop being so dramatic about this!” Isabela raised a hand to rub her forehead, fending off an impending headache. “Look, you want to protect Merrill, don’t you?”

“Of course I do, but-“

“What do you think the Seekers will do to a pair of blood mages when they find them, hmm?” Isabela asked, not giving Hawke the chance to finish. Hawke fidgeted uncomfortably. “Do it for her, if you won’t do it for yourself.”

Hawke winced, feeling the words as if Isabela had plunged a knife into his stomach and twisted. Reluctantly, he picked up the razor. “Fine. Let’s..." He took a deep, steadying breath. "Let’s just get this over with.”


	18. I've Seen Worse

**Prompt: I've seen worse**

 

 

“Are you trying to stare a hole through that letter?” Josephine startled at Herah’s voice, and looked up to see the large Qunari smiling bemusedly down at her. “I hope the Orlesian nobles aren’t complaining about our lack of mahogany again.”

“What?” Josephine said, flustered. “No, nothing like that. It’s just… That is to say…”

Herah’s small smile disappeared, replaced by a look of mild concern. “Josephine, is something wrong?”

Josephine sighed and leaned her head down onto her desk. “It’s a letter from my parents,” she mumbled just loud enough for the Inquisitor to hear.

“You’re parents? What did they say?”

Josephine refused to look up from her desk. “They’re coming to Skyhold.”

“They’re coming here?” Herah asked, confused and somewhat alarmed.

Josephine finally looked up from her desk and gave the Inquisitor a sheepish look. “They want to see you, specifically.”

“Me? They-“ Herah sighed as realization hit her. “They want to see who their daughter has gotten herself involved with, I take it?”

“Most… likely, yes,” Josephine said hesitantly.

Herah sat in silence for a short moment to collect her thoughts, and finally asked, “How does your family feel about you and me, exactly?”

“I… think, that they are mostly just confused. They would not have even known I was with anyone until you challenged Lord Otranto to a duel. Add to that that you are a Qunari mage… well, I do not think they know what to make of you, or us.”

“I suppose I am probably the exact opposite of who your parents expected you to be with.”

“Of that, you are most certainly correct.” Josephine sighed deeply and bowed her head.

“Don’t worry, Josephine,” Herah comforted, slipping a hand into Josephine’s. “We’ll find some way to please your parents. It certainly can’t be worse than the Winter Palace.” Herah smirked suddenly as a memory came to her. “Besides, your sister’s already on our side. She seemed all too eager to see us elope to the Anderfels.”

“Oh, don’t remind me! She only recently stopped asking when we were going to leave for Weisshaupt." Josephine paused, considering something. "But I suppose you are right. Father will listen to her, at least; he is almost as much a romantic as she is.”

“I suppose we’ll get along quite well, then,” Herah said, giving Josephine’s hand a slight squeeze.

“I certainly hope so,” Josephine smiled up at her.

Herah leaned down to say more, but was interrupted by the door to Josephine’s office slamming open. An excited young lady in a green dress that Herah recognized as Josephine’s sister Yvette came bumbling through. “Josephine!” She squealed as she all but ran to Josephine’s desk.

“Yvette!” cried Josephine. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, Josie, when I received the letter saying that the whole family was meeting here, I had to come straight away!”

“But how did you get here so fast?” Josephine asked. “We only just received the letter ourselves.”

“Really?” Yvette gasped, eyes wide. “The letter was delivered to me days ago! Maybe the courier was lost?” Yvette turned her attention to the Inquisitor, beaming brightly. “Oh, you’re going to meet the family! This is so romantic! Is it true that you dueled Lord Otranto for my sister’s hand? That Lord Otranto forfeited when he saw how in love you were?”

Herah flushed, flustered by the attention. “Well, I… yes.”

“How I wish I had been there!” Yvette looked ready to swoon at the Inquisitor’s feet.

“Yvette, please,” Josephine begged half-heartedly, not expecting her sister to listen.

“I do envy you, you know,” she told her sister. “It is as if you walked into a romance novel!”

As if on cue, Cullen entered Josephine’s office, carrying a stack of papers. “Inquisitor, there you are. I have some reports I need you to go over.” His eyes drifted to Yvette, noticing her for the first time. “My apologies, I did not realize that you had guests.” She gaped appreciatively at the commander, which Cullen either failed to notice, or was determined to ignore.

“Commander Cullen, this is Yvette Montilyet, Josephine’s sister.”

“A… pleasure to meet you, Cullen. Commander. Commander Cullen,” Yvette said, now looking ready to swoon at Cullen’s feet instead.

“A pleasure to meet you as well, Lady Montilyet,” Cullen said politely, fidgeting slightly at the attention. He quickly marched over to place a neat stack of papers onto Josephine’s desk. “I do apologize, Inquisitor, but I must return to my duties.”

Herah nodded. “Of course, commander.”

As quickly as he arrived, Cullen marched out of the room, Yvette following his progress the entire way. As soon as he was out of sight, she sighed appreciatively. “Josephine! Josephine! You never told me that the men here were all so handsome!”

“ _Yvette!_ ”

“Oh, I must freshen up for tonight! I do hope I brought that blue dress…” She turned to her sister. “You must have so much work to do, I should leave you to it. I shall see you at dinner tonight.” She kissed both of Josephine’s cheeks in farewell, and turned to Herah to do the same, before remembering just how tall the Inquisitor was. She curtsied instead, and then quickly bounded excitedly out the door. Josephine and Herah stared at each other in the sudden silence.

“So… your sister’s here,” Herah said at last.

“I know,” Josephine sighed. “I will have to keep her out of trouble the entire time she’s here. And I must write to the University at Val Royeaux. Yvette certainly did not get proper leave before rushing out the door.” She took out a piece of parchment and an ink pot, already preparing to write the first draft.

“When does the rest of your family arrive?”

“Not for another month, I’m afraid,” Josephine answered.

“… Oh.” Herah’s voice was small, and was quickly consumed by the oppressive silence that had settled upon the room. “Well,” she said half-heartedly, “I suppose there’s still time to elope to the Anderfels.”

“Herah…” Josephine sighed, exasperated.

“Right, of course. I should probably see to Cullen’s reports.” With a practiced motion, Herah scooped up the papers into one hand. With her other, she gently squeezed Josephine’s shoulders, and pressed a kiss into her hair. “See you at dinner tonight.”

“See you at dinner, my lady” Josephine repeated, smiling slightly as she watched Herah make her own slow way out of her office.


	19. The dawn will come

**Prompt: The dawn will come**

 

 

Josephine walked down to the lower courtyard to find it a hive of activity, with Herah in the center, her presence dominating the courtyard as she barked orders to everyone within earshot. “Where’s Dennet?” she yelled, “I need those horses saddled immediately! And where are those supplies?” Josephine weaved her way through the hive circling around her. As she drew near, one of the soldiers approached the Inquisitor, placing a hand on her shoulder in salute.

“Inquisitor, word from Master Dennet. He says there are only three horses ready on such short notice.”

“Three! But we need-“ She stole a glance at the Breach growing ever steadily bigger across the sky. “Find Cassandra, Varric, and Solas. Bring them here. Tell the rest to follow when they can.”

“Yes, ser!” the soldier said, giving a quick salute before running to the stairs to the keep. It was only then, as the soldier rushed past her, that Herah finally noticed Josephine.

“Josephine! What are you doing here?”

Josephine opened her mouth, but for once her tongue failed her, and no words came. Taking the final few steps, she wrapped Herah into a desperate hug, which Herah immediately returned. Josephine felt tears begin to prickle at her eyes as she enveloped herself in Herah’s presence. “This is it,” she eventually said, tilting her head up to look at Herah’s face.

“It is,” Herah answered. “We’ll find Corypheus and put an end to this once and for all.”

“I know you will, my love,” Josephine said, snuggling closer. “What you have done is nothing but miraculous. Yet I cannot help but worry.”

“Josephine, I-”

“Inquisitor!” Herah looked up to see Cassandra in front of her, riding in on her horse, looking as solemn as ever. Varric and Solas, sharing a horse, rode in just behind her, and behind them a weary soldier was very carefully leading Herah’s dracolisk. “It’s time,” Cassandra said, a sense of finality weighing down here words.

Herah looked down at Josephine, who nodded for her to go. With great reluctance, Herah removed herself from Josephine’s embrace, and made her way to her mount. The dracolisk hissed in mild annoyance as the Inquisitor sat upon it. Josephine followed behind her, gripping Herah’s hands once the Inquisitor was seated.

“Come back to me, my love,” she whispered desperately.

Herah smiled down at her. “Always.”

Josephine stepped away from the dracolisk, and with one final look at her love, Herah bolted through Skyhold’s open gate, her companions in quick pursuit.


	20. A Courtly Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Kink Meme Prompt:
> 
> Sorry if this has been prompted before, but this anon would like to see some of our less graceful characters - or all characters - get dancing lessons prior to the ball at the Winter Palace to make sure that those that are coming with the inquisitor actually know what they're supposed to do on the dance floor. Can be with Vivienne and/or Dorian as instructor, with grumpy Cassandra having to dance with Varric, whatever. Who dances with who is up to A!A, as well as pairings, should there be any. Just no Inquisitor/Solas or Inquisitor/Cullen, although they can dance as friends and then let the Inquisitor dance with their LI.
> 
> Bonus:  
> \- Bull knows every dance for some reason  
> \- The inquisitor - no matter who they are - is exceptionally clumsy or thinks this isn't worth their time. Or they crack jokes to distract everyone else.  
> \- Sera steps on everyone's feet, even those of whom she isn't currently dancing with.  
> \- Cassandra really wants to be somewhere else

“Inquisitor, this is why you asked us here? To dance?” Cassandra huffed disdainfully.

“We’re going to a ball, Cassandra,” Herah answered. “We might be called to dance.”

“We are going to this ball to prevent an assassination,” Cassantra rebuked, “not to engage in… frivolities.”

“I agree,” Cullen said, “This seems like a waste of our time.”

Vivienne tutted at them both. “Darling, I assure you: the right word and the right dance can be just as deadly as any sword.”

Cassandra huffed disbelievingly. “Inquisitor, if you have nothing else-“

“Aw, afraid someone will step on your toes?” Sera laughed from the sidelines.

“Who invited _her_ here?” Cassandra asked accusingly. “She’s not even going to the Winter Palace!”

“What, and miss seeing you all make giant tits of yourselves?” Serah laughed. Cassandra made a disgusted noise and turned to leave, only to be stopped when she crashed into the massive form of the Iron Bull, who had suddenly appeared in the doorway.

“ _Unf!_ You’re in a hurry today, Seeker,” the Iron Bull said as he rubbed his chest at the point of impact.

“The Seeker here is trying to avoid dancing lessons,” Varric helpfully replied, grinning cheekily.

Bull arched an eyebrow at the dwarf. “Dancing lessons? Ah, you must mean for the Winter Palace." Bull turned to look at the Inquisitor. "You know, Boss, I know a few moves, if you need an extra instructor.”

“You… dance?” Cassandra asked, desperately confused.

Vivienne snorted derisively. “I'm sure your skills are adequate enough for the local tavern, my dear, but we will require a more delicate touch.”

Bull laughed uproariously. “Oh, I'm more skillful than you might expect, Viv.” Vivienne sent him a scathing look. “Uh, Ma’am. Tell me, Seeker, do you know the Basse?”

Cassandra huffed. “Of course. No one in the Nevarran royal family escapes learning the Basse.”

“Good. Let’s hope you’re not rusty.” Without waiting for a response, Bull firmly grasped Cassandra’s arms and led her into center of the room. The seeker squeaked in surprised as he hummed a tune and began to dance with her. He was surprisingly graceful for someone his size, and soon they found themselves entangled in a courtly dance.

“Did you see that?” Sera commented merrily, “Swept her right off her feet!” Sera dissolved into a fit of snorting laughter.

In the background, Cullen attempted to quietly make his escape, but was intercepted by Leliana. “Going somewhere, commander?”

Cullen startled. “I… I was just… Leliana, is this really necessary?” he asked desperately.

“It absolutely is,” she answered, pulling him into the dance floor. “Just look pretty and follow my lead.” Sera laughed anew when she saw Cullen, red as a tomato, following Leliana on the dance floor.

Herah felt a hand on her back, and turned to see Josephine smiling behind her. “May I have this dance, Lady Adaar?” she asked coyly.

“Of course, Lady Montilyet,” she answered, ignoring the kissy faces Sera was making behind her. They joined hands and walked out into the dance floor.

“Have you ever danced before, my lady?” Josephine asked.

“Not at a royal ball, no,” Herah quipped, but a hint of nervousness crept into her voice.

“We’ll start simple, then,” Josephine said reassuringly, and began to lead her through a series of steps. The dance was deceptively simple, and yet the Inquisitor kept missing a step halfway through.

“I’m sorry, I’m trying,” she told Josephine as nearly stepped on her toes for the tenth time.

“You are doing very well for someone’s first formal dance,” Josephine reassured. “You just need more practice.”

Herah sighed, relieved. “Well if that’s all I need,” she said suggestively, “perhaps you could arrange some private lessons later.”

“Oh, get a room, you two!” Sera shouted, smiling gleefully as Josephine’s face flushed bright red.

Not long after that, Vivienne and Varric appeared dancing next to them. “Josephine, dear, would you mind if I cut in?” Vivienne did not wait for an answer before dumping a confused but relieved Varric into Josephine’s arms and whisked the Inquisitor away. Vivienne lead her on a faster dance, and Herah could barely keep up with her.

“You’re focusing too much on your feet, darling,” Vivienne said after stepping on her foot for the second time. “Focus on your partner, and on the flow of the music.” Vivienne began to hum louder, and led them on another dance.

Herah tried to follow Vivienne’s advice, and at first she seemed to be doing even worse. But after more practice and more guidance, she began to steadily improve. “Well done,” Vivienne said at last. “You might just be passable after all.”

“Uh, thanks?” Herah said, not sure if she should feel offended.

“Don’t thank me yet, darling. There is still much work to be done.”


	21. Wish you were here

**Prompt: Wish you were here**

 

“Lady Montilyet?” Josephine snapped her head away from the window to look at the courier waiting patiently in front of her desk. She had drifted off again, she realized. That had become a common problem for the past few weeks, ever since Herah left for another mission out in western Orlais.

“I’m sorry. What is it?” Josephine asked, trying to bury her embarrassment under a layer of professionalism.

“The Inquisitor’s weekly report has arrived, my lady,” the courier said, the smallest smile appearing briefly on her lips. Josephine stared at the letter intently, calling upon all of her self-control and diplomatic training to keep herself from jumping up and grabbing the letter from her hands. She followed the letter’s path as the courier placed it onto her desk.

“Thank you,” she answered, barely able to contain her excitement. “I’ll look into to right away.”

“Is there anything else you require, my lady?” the courier asked, smiling larger now, though Josephine hardly noticed.

“No, no. That will be all.” The courier saluted formally and turned to walk out of the room. The door was not even all the way closed before Josephine began to desperately rip open her package. She pulled out a stack of papers, ignoring the official report that took up most of the stack for a letter hidden underneath. She flipped the parchment open, and greedily began to read.

 

_Dear Josephine,_

_We’ve arrived at the Hissing Wastes a few days ago, and honestly it doesn’t look much different than the other patches of desert that we had to walk through to get here. I’m not sure what it is about this wasteland that the Venatori are so interested in, although I suspect that it has something to do with the Dwarven ruins I’ve seen dotting the landscape. There’s something unusual about them. One of them even had demons guarding it! I’ve never heard of such a thing. Perhaps you could send someone over to take a look at them._

_Sera is miserable here, unfortunately. She complains constantly about being bored and about sand getting into her clothes. Not that I can blame her for the last one: it does get everywhere. At least her antics keep me sane. Bull and Dorian aren’t complaining as much, mostly because they’re too busy arguing. Or maybe flirting. It’s hard to tell with those two sometimes._

_We found what appears to be the Venatori’s base of operations here, and are planning on hitting it tomorrow. Hopefully we’ll finally get some answers about why they dragged us all the way out to the ass end of Orlais. If all goes well, we should be back at Skyhold within a week. I cannot wait to come home. I’ve missed you terribly._

_I hope to see you again soon._

_Lots of love,_

_Herah_


	22. How does your garden grow?

**Prompt: How does your garden grow?**

 

Josephine knew she shouldn’t be out in the gardens right now. There was a huge backlog of letters she had to go through waiting back in her office, but even she had enough of the nobles’ petty complaints for one day. _‘The letters will still be there later,’_ Herah always said, and for once she was going to take her advice. She took a seat on an empty bench, enjoying the gardens. She had forgotten just how beautiful it was out here.

Josephine felt a small hand tug on her sleeve, and turned to see a young boy. She recognized him as Morrigan’s son… Kieran, wasn’t it? “Hello,” the boy said shyly, pulling out a small bunch of flowers from behind his back. “These are for you.”

Josephine took the flowers, which she recognized as lilies from the garden. “Oh, they’re lovely! Thank you,” she said, smiling kindly. Keiran smiled brightly at the compliment. “What is the occasion?” she asked.

“You looked lonely,” Keiran explained, fidgeting nervously. Josephine suppressed a frown. She hadn’t realized that she had been so obvious.

“It’s kind of you to worry about me,” she said politely.

Keiran sat himself next to her on the bench. “Cole says that you’re sad when the Inquisitor’s away.”

“Cole said that, did he?” she sighed. Keiran nodded.

“He says a lot of things. But I don’t know what they all mean.”

“I think Master Solas is the only one who truly understands him.”

“He’s nice. He just wants to help.”

“Keiran! There you are!” Josephine and Keiran looked up to see the inappropriately dressed witch Morrigan coming towards them. “I do wish you would not disappear like that.”

“Sorry, mother,” Keiran said bashfully.

“Come. We need to get you cleaned up before supper.” Keiran sighed dramatically before reluctantly getting up from his seat and walking to his mother’s side. “My son was not bothering you, I hope,” she asked Josephine as she took her son’s hand.

“Not at all, Lady Morrigan,” she said politely. “He is such a sweet lad.”

“He takes after his father,” Morrigan said fondly. “He certainly didn’t get it from me. But thank you. Do enjoy your time away from your desk. You see so precious little of it, after all.” Josephine suppressed a sigh. That was far too true.

“Bye,” Keiran said, waving to Josephine as they left. She smiled and waved back.


	23. The Blanket Thief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Kink Meme Prompt: 
> 
> I absolutely adore F!Adaar and Josephine, and I crave more fics and art about them.
> 
> Just anything super cute and non-sexual. Like some smaller troubles with their heightdifference, or Adaar leaving little presents for Josie if she works late again, or them adopting kids
> 
> FLUFF ME

When Herah woke up, it was still dark, and she couldn’t understand why she was so cold. It took her sleep-addled mind a moment to realize that she didn’t have any blankets. She felt around, trying to find where it could have gone. Her hands felt a bundle of blankets behind her, and when she turned, she saw that Josephine had taken all the blankets and had built a cocoon around herself.

“Josephine?” She asked quietly, but got no response. She tugged gently on the blanket, feeling that it would not come out easily. She sighed, not truly wanting to wake Josephine up, and slid herself out of bed to get an extra blanket from her closet. The floor was cold on her bare feet, and she suddenly regretted ignoring Josephine’s suggestion to get slippers.

The blankets were fortunately easy to find, and Herah dragged the thickest one she could find back to bed with her. As she slid back into bed and wrapped the blanket around herself, she felt Josephine stirring next to her.

“Herah?”

“I’m here, love,” she answered softly.

“You were gone,” Josephine muttered softly.

“I just had to get more blankets,” Herah said comfortingly.

“Why?” she asked. She shifted in bed, noticing her cocoon for the first time. “Oh,” she said, sounding faintly embarrassed. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right,” Herah said as she wrapped an arm around Josephine’s cocoon. “I got my own.”

“Sorry,” she muttered again as she snuggled into Herah’s side. She fell silent after that, having fallen back asleep, and Herah soon followed.

When Herah woke up that morning, her blanket was once again missing, and Josephine’s cocoon was just a bit larger.


	24. Right place, wrong time

**Prompt: Right place, wrong time**

 

There was something different about that raven, Morrigan knew. It had been sitting in that tree for quite some time now, silently watching them. And now that she was looking at it, it had started to make a recognizable swooping pattern with its head. Kieran had noticed as well, and was tugging on her arm for attention. “Mother!” he whispered excitedly, pointing at the bird.

“I know, Kieran,” Morrigan said. “Come, let us go somewhere more private.” She easily led her son to the room where she kept the Eluvian. The raven, which had hardly moved at all, now took flight behind them, flying through the open door. Once the door was securely closed, there was a puff of smoke, and the raven disappeared, replaced by a man in mage robes and with ginger hair and beard. Daylen Amell, the Hero of Ferelden.

“ _Father!_ ” Kieran squealed happily as he ran into his father’s arms, and Daylen wrapped him up in a giant hug.

“You’ve gotten so big!” Daylen commented, grinning. “Soon you’ll be as big as I am.” Kieran giggled at that. Daylen turned his gaze to Morrigan, and held out a hand. She took it, and he pulled her into the hug. “Morrigan, how are you?” he asked after a while, a hint of worry in his voice. She knew he meant about the Well of Sorrows, and what happened with Flemeth.

“I’m… as well as can be expected,” Morrigan answered. Daylen nodded, knowing that would likely be the most he would get out of her at the moment. Morrigan broke from the hug, and brought out two dusty chairs from the side of the room. Daylen took one, Kieran taking a seat on the floor next to him.

“So, you’re here,” she said, trying not to sound too eager. “Does that mean…”

“I’m close,” he answered. “I found a solid lead, but I do not have the resources to investigate it on my own.”

“And you want the aid of the Inquisition?”

He nodded. “Do you think you could ask the Inquisitor about this?”

Morrigan thought about it. “The Inquisitor is something of an admirer,” she answered. “’Tis likely you would have better results asking her in person.”

“Really?” he asked, surprised. “Well, perhaps you can introduce us.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Morrigan felt ridiculous walking through the Great Hall with a raven on her shoulder, but Daylen had insisted that he didn’t want anyone to know he was here yet. She could only assume that he had upset the wrong people in his search out west. She would have to have a talk with him about it later. She was told by a passing servant girl that the Inquisitor had entered Josephine’s office, and marched away from the hall’s prying eyes as fast as she could. She walked through the open office door to find the Inquisitor Herah and Josephine engrossed in some paperwork on the ambassador’s desk. Morrigan cleared her throat. “Inquisitor? May I have a word?”

The Inquisitor looked up, startled. “Morrigan! I didn’t expect to see you here.” Her lips turned into a sudden frown. “Why is there a bird on your shoulder.”

“I can explain that momentarily,” Morrigan said. She looked to the papers on Josephine’s desk. “I’m not interrupting important Inquisition business, am I?”

“No, no,” the Inquisitor quickly explained. “We were just… going over the plans for when Josephine’s family arrives next week.”

“I see,” Morrigan said. “Well, I’ll try not to keep you overlong.” She turned to close the door behind her. “Inquisitor, do you remember when I told you-“ Morrigan was interrupted when the bird on her shoulder flew off to land on the floor, and in a puff of smoke the bird transformed back into Daylen. Josephine shrieked, and the Inquisitor fumbled for her staff.

“Daylen!” Morrigan reprimanded. “You couldn’t have waited a few more minutes to do that?”

“Sorry, Morrigan,” Daylen said smiling, not sounding sorry at all. Morrigan huffed.

“Honestly, ‘tis beyond me why I put up with you.”

“My charming good looks, of course,” Daylen quipped playfully. Morrigan rolled her eyes.

The Inquisitor’s eyes widened, and she dropped her staff. “You’re… You’re the Hero of Fereldan!”

“He is?” Josephine squeaked .

“Warden Commander Daylen Amell," he said, bowing deeply. "A pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Inquisitor."

“A pleasure to meet you as well,” the Inquisitor said, still sounding starstruck. “Last I heard you were far out west. What brings you to Skyhold?

Daylen nodded. “I have something of a favor to ask, actually. I know that my wife has-“

“ _Wife!_ ” Morrigan huffed disdainfully.

“Yes, wife,” Daylen insisted. “Just because you refuse to have a ceremony in a chantry doesn’t make it any less so.”

Morrigan rolled her eyes, but couldn’t stop a small smile from appearing on her lips. This was an old argument between them, and it felt strangely wonderful to be able to have it again.

“As I was saying,” Daylen continued, “my wife has told you about my research into stopping the Calling. I found a solid lead, but I do not have the resources to follow it up on my own.”

“And you would like the Inquisition to help you,” the Inquisitor finished. Daylen nodded. The Inquisitor shared a look with Josephine, before saying, “We’re honored that you would come to us, but isn’t this Warden business?”

Daylen sighed. “The Wardens are a shell of what they once were after what happened with Corypheus. Warden-Constable Nathaniel was able to keep most of Fereldan’s wardens out of that madness, fortunately, but they do not have the resources to do what I need on their own.”

The Inquisitor thought quietly for a moment. “I’ll see what we can do,” she said cautiously. “Go speak with Leliana and tell her what you need.”

“Thank you, Inquisitor,” Daylen said, smiling. “I’ll go right away. It will be nice to see another familiar face.”

“I should warn you, Daylen, that Leliana is not the same woman you remember,” Morrigan said. Daylen looked at her curiously. “She is a much… harder woman,” she added as way of explanation.

Daylen sighed. “Time changes us all,” he said warily. He turned back to the Inquisitor. “If you don’t mind, Inquisitor, I would like to keep my presence here quiet for the time being.”

“We’ll be discrete,” the Inquisitor answered.

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” With another puff of smoke, the Hero of Fereldan was gone, and a raven was once again perched on Morrigan’s shoulders.

“Now you stay a raven until I tell you otherwise,” Morrigan told the bird sternly. The bird called loudly in response.


	25. With you

**Prompt: With you**

 

Elissa stared around her at the opulent excesses of the Grand Cathedral, the songs of the Chant of Light echoing off every wall. Obtaining a private meeting with the new Divine was not easy at first, but once Leliana knew who was petitioning her, the Divine had cut through all the bureaucratic mess to get her here. Now Elissa was standing in front of the Divine’s private chambers, terrified at what she might find inside.

The door opened before Elissa could work up the nerve to knock, and an irritated Chantry Mother stormed out. She took one look at Elissa and sneered. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“I was invited here,” Elissa said, suddenly more annoyed than nervous.

“You?” the Mother said unbelieving.

“Elissa?” came a voice from within, and she felt her heart stop. _Leliana_. The redhead appeared in the doorway, a smile on her face when she saw her. She turned her gaze to the Mother, and her smile turned into a frown. “I invited her here, Mother Urilla. Please let her in.”

“Of course, Your Perfection,” Mother Urilla said, all haughtiness gone from her voice as she bowed before the Divine. “Please forgive my presumptions.” She walked backwards away from the door, and Leliana beckoned Elissa to enter. Finally moved to action, Elissa walked through, Leliana closing it behind her.

“Leliana-“

“Shh, not so close to the door,” she said, taking her hand and leading her through the Divine’s apartments, each room as empty as the last. “I gave the servants the day off,” Leliana explained as they arrived in her office, stopping at a desk piled with papers. “It’s just us,” she said, voice breaking slightly. _Just us at last_. She turned around, taking her hands and pulling her into a tight embrace. "Oh, my dear heart. Where have you been?” she asked, a worried note creeping into her voice. “I haven’t heard from you in almost a year, and suddenly you’re in Val Royeaux?”

Elissa swallowed past a lump in her throat. “I’m sorry. Where I was… I couldn’t get any letters out.”

“But you’re here now,” Leliana continued, pulling away to look at her. “Does this mean you found a cure for the calling at last?”

“I’m so close,” Elissa answered. “I’m having my wardens look into what I’ve found. It’s slow work, we don’t have all the resources we need-“

“Whatever you need, I’ll make sure you get. Inquisitor Edric should be willing to help if I ask.”

“Thank you,” Elissa said softly. Leliana frowned at her unenthusiastic response.

“Elissa, why are you acting so dour? This is wonderful news! We can finally be together at last.”

“Can we?” Elissa said, uncertain.

“What do you mean?”

Elissa struggled to explain. Leliana was Divine Victoria now. She had taken vows, symbolically married to the Maker - and she did not think that the Maker was one to share. What would it mean for them if they continued to be together?

“You’re the Divine," she said at last. "You are meant to be… above earthly desires.”

“Oh, is that what this is about?” Leliana said, sounding almost relieved. “I’ve made so many changes already. Do you really think that they would notice one more?”

“But-“

“No buts, Elissa. Come here, and no arguing this time.” Whatever Elissa was about to say was lost when their lips collided together. Their years of separation and loneliness and want poured into that kiss, igniting a fire that Elissa no longer wanted to stop. The burning of their lungs finally forced them apart, Elissa taking advantage to push Leliana against her desk, Elissa’s fingers scrabbling for purchase against the buttons at the back of Leliana’s gown.

“I’m going to the void, aren’t I?” Elissa said in a shuddering breath, surprisingly not sounding displeased by the notion..

“I think I have a say in that, no?” Leliana said playfully, pulling her in for another kiss.


	26. You didn't think this through, did you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt makes reference to chapters six, eight, and seventeen.

**Prompt: You didn't think this through, did you?**

 

“Champion?” Garret turned to see Cassandra walking beside him, looking at him questioningly. Hawke sighed silently. He should have known accompanying the Inquisitor to Crestwood was a bad idea.

“I haven’t been a champion in a long time. Please, call me Hawke.”

“All right… Hawke,” she said cautiously. “I was curious about something, and Varric was not very helpful when I asked.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Hawke interrupted. Cassandra scoffed, but resisted rising to Hawke’s bait.

“I was wondering where you went after you left Kirkwall.”

Hawke gave the seeker an appraising look, before asking, “Is this a professional inquiry, or are you just curious?”

“I’m… just curious, I suppose.”

“Very well, since you asked so nicely. The short version is, Isabela took me and Merrill to Rivain, and we stayed there raising our son Theron for a few years. Then the Dairsmuid Circle was annulled, and when our town got the news, a riot broke out. Turns out Rivaini don’t like their seers in training being massacred. The Templars threatened to burn the town to the ground as ‘mage sympathizers.’ “

“Do you really think the Templars would do that?” Cassandra asked, appalled, but not all that surprised.

“We weren’t willing to find out. We took the first ship out of Rivain, and ended up in the Free Marches, near Ostwick. While trying to get passage on a ship to Fereldan, we were attacked by Templars, who had been taking red lyrium, of all things. I couldn’t let that go, so I contacted the Wardens, and now I’m here.”

“That is quite a story,” Cassandra said.

“I know,” Hawke said, smiling slightly. “I’m surprised Varric didn’t want to tell it. I’m sure he’d do a much better job of it than I can.” Cassandra made a faint noise of agreement. “So, Seeker, since we’re on the topic of things Varric won’t tell us, why were you searching for me?”

Cassandra stumbled in surprise. “Well, I… You had been at the heart of the start of the mage rebellion. I was hoping you could help the mages and Templars see reason.”

Hawke raised his eyes in surprise. “You mean you wanted me at the conclave?”

Cassandra looked away, embarrassed. “I… wanted to ask you to be Inquisitor.”

Hawke stopped dead. Of all the answers he could have gotten, that was the one he expected the least. “You wanted what? Are you serious?”

“Wait?” Sera turned around to ask, “ _He_ was your first choice?”

“I know!” Hawke agreed. “Really, did you take one look at what was left of Kirkwall and decide, ‘That’s the man I want in charge of our organization’? Maker, you must have been desperate.”

“We were,” Cassandra said quietly.

“You could have at least advertised it better. I thought you were going to kill me!” Cassandra’s eyes widened in surprise. “That’s why I went to Rivain. I even shaved my beard to help hide from you. My beard!” He pointed to his naked chin, as if its lack of facial hair was the most grave of injustices.

“You really thought that we were going to kill you?”

Hawke scoffed. “What was I supposed to think? What else would the Seekers do with a pair of blood mages?”

Cassandra’s face hardened. “So you admit to being a blood mage, then?” Hawke suddenly felt the eyes of the entire party upon him. Inquisitor Cadash looked at him cautiously, while the Tevinter mage Dorian just looked annoyed. Sera had drawn her bow and notched an arrow. The bow was pointed to the ground, but the threat was clear.

“No?” Hawke said pathetically. He coughed, clearing his throat. “No, of course not.” From Cassandra’s impassive face, it was clear that she didn’t believe him.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter now.” With a noise of equal parts disappointment and disgust, she turned around and began walking. The Inquisitor and Dorian turned to join her, but Sera did not move, bow still in hand. Once the others were out of earshot, she finally spoke.

“Try to worm your way into my head,” she said in a low voice, “and I shoot _your_ head full of arrows. Got it?” Hawke swallowed uncomfortably.

“Got it.”


	27. Hangover cure, old family recipe

**Prompt: Hangover cure, old family recipe**

 

“Bull!”

The Iron Bull looked up from the chair he had been napping in to see an angry Antivan ambassador bristling in front of him. He could almost swear that her ruffled sleeves were puffed up like the fur on an angry cat.

“Josephine, what brings you down here,” he said cautiously as he tried to figure out what had gotten their ambassador so upset.

“Would you care to explain why the Inquisitor came back to her chambers completely drunk last night?” Bull’s face scrunched up in concentration as he tried to remember what he did last night. Finally, the memory returned to him, and his face lit up.

“Me and the boss were celebrating killing that high dragon in the Hinterlands. I brought out the good stuff! Fine Qunari ale.” Josephine frowned, not looking the least impressed. Bull coughed nervously. “I suppose we might have drank a bit too much.”

“A bit!” Josephine said angrily. “She still won’t come out of bed because of her hangover!” Bull winced. He had hangovers like that before.

“If you want,” Bull offered, “I have something that might help with that.”

Josephine’s face softened, and she looked at him curiously. “What is it?”

“Old Ben-Hassrath secret recipe. You’re supposed to take it before to keep from getting too drunk, but it works just as well the day after.”

“I don’t suppose you would have any?” she asked hopefully. Bull shook his head.

“Nah, it doesn’t keep for very long. Have to make it from scratch.” Bull thought for a moment, trying to remember the ingredients. “All right, I’ll need some elfroot, some embrium, a bit of spindleweed, some giant spider eggsacs-“

“What, no!” Josephine exclaimed, disgusted. “I’m not letting you feed anything with spider eggs to the Inqusitor!”

“It’s perfectly safe,” Bull tried to explain. “For Qunari, anyway. Besides, I need the eggs to nullify the poison in the deathroot-“

“No!” Josephine by this point had gone beyond disgusted and straight to horrified. “Absolutely not!” With a defeated sigh, she turned around and began to walk away.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“Back to the Inquisitor. Someone has to make sure she’s all right.”

“If you change your mind, I’ll be right here.”


	28. The Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original Kink Meme Prompt:
> 
> Based on this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1EAEQBvoRTQ#t=127
> 
> Josephine hosts a tea party, Leliana and Cullen are guilted into participating. Bonus if
> 
> \- Leliana invites the Inquisitor to distract Josie and give herself an opportunity to escape (Josephine/Inquisitor)  
> \- OR Leliana invites the Inquisitor to secure Cullen's participation, again, to allow herself the opportunity to slip away (Cullen/Inquisitor)  
> \- Cullen is wise to her schemes and keeps trying to sabotage her efforts to get away

“Cullen, glad you could make it!” Herah said, acting for all the world like she hadn’t all but ordered him to come to Josephine’s tea party earlier that same day. Josephine was deeply disappointed that no one could come to her last interlude, as Herah repeatedly reminded him. The Inquisitor took Josephine’s hurt feelings rather personally, it seemed.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Cullen replied. It was a lie, and an atrociously bad one at that, but they were polite enough to pretend not to notice. Cullen took the nearest seat while Josephine filled his cup with tea and the Inquisitor passed him a plate of tiny sandwiches. He picked one up – cucumber, he thought – and placed it in his mouth. He could almost feel Josephine staring at him disapprovingly as he chewed on the mass of sandwich.

“So, Leliana, have you heard…” Cullen tuned out the small talk as best he could. He took a sip of his tea to help the sandwich go down. The cup looked comically small in his hands. But then, the cup looked small even in Josephine’s hands. He wondered if this was the set she used for tea parties when she was a girl. It certainly was the appropriate shade of yellow for such use.

“Wouldn’t you agree, commander?” he heard Josephine ask, pulling Cullen out of his idle thoughts about their ambassador playing tea party with her doll collection.

“Uh, of course,” he said without thinking. Josephine smile was suspiciously bright.

“That’s wonderful news!” their ambassador announced. “I’ll let Lady Florentine know that you have agreed to the engagement.”

Cullen sputtered. “ _What?_ ” he asked desperately. Suddenly the Inquisitor started laughing hysterically.

“I’m sorry, love,” she said to Josephine between bouts of laughter. “But did you see the look on his face?” Josephine’s ginned at the Inquisitor in response. Cullen flushed red in confused embarrassment.

“So I take it I’m not unexpectedly engaged,” he croaked. Josephine smiled at him, kinder this time.

“Don’t worry, commander. I will make sure to let Lady Florentine down gently.” Cullen stared at her as her words began to register.

“You’re saying that I really did get a proposal?” he asked, horrified.

“You forget just how popular you were at the Winter Palace,” Leliana said, clearly amused by Cullen’s misfortunes. Josephine nodded in agreement.

“We’ve received a dozen proposals in the last month alone,” Josephine added. The commander blanched at the thought. “You really should look at some of them,” she continued. “Maybe someone will take your fancy.” Josephine sounded almost hopeful at the idea.

“No, absolutely not!” Cullen said, bringing his cup up to drink to try to hide his blush. It was only when the cup reached his lips that he realized that the cup was empty. The Inquisitor smiled and reached over to refill his cup.

“You should at least look at the letter from Lady Brienne,” Josephine said, pleading.

“Oh, that one was so romantic!” Leliana all but squealed.

“I know!” Josephine squealed back.

“ _No_ ,” Cullen said again forcefully.

“It seems the commander doesn’t appreciate us interfering with his love life,” Leliana told Josephine with no small amount of amusement.

“Indeed,” Josephine said. “We should let the poor man alone.” Cullen didn’t quite believe her, but felt some measure of relief regardless. “Now, darling, I believe you were telling us about your recent trip to the Storm Coast.” The Inquisitor finished taking a sip of tea before talking.

“Oh, the coast is as rainy and miserable as always,” she said. “Even more so now, with all the darkspawn. I sealed the entrances I could find, but I don’t think it will last very long. We’ll need to get someone to construct something more permanent.”

“I’ll look into what options we have later,” Josephine said. “Perhaps the dwarves of Orzammar might be willing to help us,” she pondered quietly.

“Orzammar is unlikely to send engineers to the surface to fix a surfacer problem,” Leliana said. “Perhaps the Merchant’s Guild will have some useful contacts.”

“Perhaps,” Josephine sighed. “But I would rather not talk about work at the moment.”

“We do enough of that everywhere else, don’t we,” Herah said, teasing gently. “No matter how hard I try to pry you away.”

Josephine locked eyes with the Inquisitor and smiled brightly, taking her hand and rubbing the Inquisitor's knuckles gently. "I believe you are right." Cullen politely looked away, taking refuge in his tea, draining the cup in a single gulp.

Finally Josephine managed to break her gaze away. “Leliana, did you hear about the soirée Comtesse Poitiers is putting on for the Inquisition?”

“I heard it will be quite the gathering she is putting together.”

“Oh, but we must decide on what to wear! We can’t possible wear the dress uniforms from Halamshiral, we must order something new.”

“Josie! I thought you didn’t want to talk about work.” Leliana teased lightly, a slight smile on her lips.

“Ah, but Leliana, this is the fun kind of work!”

Cullen stared at her with a look of mild horror. _Maker’s breath, she’s being serious._ He looked desperately at the Inquisitor, silently pleading to be put out of his misery. The Inquisitor merely smiled and poured him another cup of tea.


	29. Let's wrap this up

**Prompt: Let's wrap this up**

 

 

Herah lifted up the package of Carastian candies, talking a good, long look at it. They had proven harder to obtain than she had anticipated. Varric’s contacts had to scour the Nevaran markets just to find some this far south that were not a shoddy imitation. Still, remembering how Josephine had acted when she received some as a gift from Maevaris, the Inquisitor knew that it would be worth all the trouble.

“Now I just have to wrap them,” the Inquisitor muttered to herself. She reached for the box and wrapping ribbon laid out at the end of her bed, but barely managed to open the box before the door to her chambers opened. Herah quickly slammed the box onto the candies and shoved them out of the way. _Josephine can’t be here this early! She’s in a meeting! She told me!_ Yet when she turned around, there Josephine was, looking truly exhausted.

“Josephine, hi.” She cringed at how suspicious she sounded. Oh well, too late now. “I thought you were in a meeting with lord such-and-such.” Josephine sighed wearily and didn’t even attempt to correct her. She must have been truly exhausted.

“Lord Mainserai didn’t even show up!” Josephine exclaimed as she flopped herself down on the bed. “It was just me and the Marquis of Serault sitting by ourselves for over an hour!”

“That’s awful,” Herah agreed. She sat down next to the Josephine, clasping her hand in her own and giving a gentle squeeze. She felt Josephine squeeze back.

“Oh, but this will set back negotiations by weeks! At least the Marquis was not overly upset by the incident. He said he was used to the rest of Orlais snubbing him.” She laid her head upon a pillow and sighed wearily. Her free hand idly wandered along the side of the bed, accidentally knocking over a box perched on the edge. “Sorry, I’ll get it.” It wasn’t until Josephine was leaning over the bed that Herah realized what that box must have been.

“Josephine, wait!” she called, but from Josephine’s gasp, she knew it was too late. Slowly, Josephine brought the box of candies up from the floor.

“Herah, are these… Carastian candies?”

Herah sighed. “They were supposed to be a surprise.”

“A surprise?” Josephine suddenly smiled brightly. “Oh! You mean for Satinalia! What a wonderful gift! Where did you even find these?”

“I had Varric’s help.”

“Oh, is this what Varric was doing that he couldn’t tell me about? I must be sure to give him something nice.”

Herah smiled. Even if the surprise was ruined, Josephine’s excitement over her gift was infectious. “Speaking of gifts, since you already know what I’m getting you…”

Josephine laughed. “You’ll have to wait another week, my lady.”

Herah pouted. “Not even a little hint?”

Josephine leaned in to place a kiss at the corner of her lips. “I know that you will love it, my darling.”

“Of course I’ll love it. It’ll be from you.” Herah smiled when she saw Josephine’s cheeks flush.


	30. You do not know the privilege of being a mother

**Prompt: You do not know the privilege of being a mother**

 

Marian laid on the grass, painful cramps having left her unstable on her feet. Her forehead ached and her vision swam, and she felt blood ooze between her legs. She closed her eyes, refusing to look down. If she looked, that meant it was real. She felt Anders kneel down next to her. “What happened?” he asked urgently. She felt the tingling of his magic as he began to examine her.

“I-“ she began, but the word stretched out into a strangled sound, too painful to continue.

Anders suddenly let out a startled noise. “Marian, you’re bleeding!” Marian opened her eyes, and saw Anders sitting in front of her. The concern in his eyes was too much, and she looked down, seeing for the first time the blood that had seeped through her trousers. Her eyes watered, but she refused to cry.

“Anders,” she said slowly, each word an effort. “My… courses… were late. I think... I was...” Marian had trouble continuing. She risked a look up, and from the devastated look an Ander’s face, she knew he understood. He felt arms wrap around her, holding her gently, as if afraid she might break. Marian’s own hands wrapped around him, grasping him tightly. She felt hot tears falling silently off Ander’s chin down her back, and her own tears soon followed.

For a long while, they sat like that in silence. _Maybe you can try again, someday_ , a voice in the back of her mind tried to say, but Marian knew deep down that was unlikely to happen. She knew what the taint did to a Grey Warden’s fertility. This child would have likely have been their only chance, and now it was gone, snuffed out before it had a chance to live.

“Maybe this is for the best,” Marian whispered hoarsely into Ander’s shoulder. “What kind of parents could we have been, on the run?”

“Don’t say that!” Anders said urgently, pulling his head back to look at her. “You would have made a wonderful mother.”

“We’ll never know now.” She hadn’t meant to sound as bitter as she did, but Anders flinched from her words all the same.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“ _Shh_. I know” Marian said gently, pulling him back into her embrace. “I’m sorry, too.”


	31. Merrill at Skyhold

**Prompt: Merrill at Skyhold**

 

Merrill and Hawke were resting in Skyhold’s gardens, their son Theron playing happily in the dirt at their feet, when the witch Morrigan finally arrived. Merrill didn’t notice at first - people were popping in and out of the garden all the time – but it was hard to miss the dozen Inquisition soldiers carrying a massive, heavy-looking object covered in a nondescript white cloth.

“Well, looks like Celene’s occult adviser brought all her toys with her,” Garret remarked. Theron perked up at the mention of toys, but quickly lost interest when all he saw was some white canvas.

Suddenly one of the soldiers tripped, nearly dropping the object to the floor. “Be careful with that!” Morrigan berated, but Merrill barely heard her. The fabric covering had flapped away when the soldier tripped, and for a brief moment, she could see what was underneath.

She turned to her husband. “Did you see that?” she said, barely able to contain her excitement.

Hawke looked up from where he was watching Theron. “Huh, saw what?”

“What Morrigan’s bringing in,” she whispered. “It’s… It’s an Eluvian!”

Hawke startled at that revelation, staring at where the soldiers maneuvered the cloth-covered Eluvian into a storeroom at the back of the gardens. “Are you sure?”

Merrill nodded enthusiastically. “I saw glass that didn’t reflect in an Elven frame. It had to be.” She frowned. “How did she even find it?” she asked, resentment that a shemlen would keep one of her people’s artifacts beginning to mix with her earlier excitement.

“You could always ask,” Hawke said, but as soon as the words left his mouth, he got a feeling that might not be such a good idea.

Merrill narrowed her eyes in the direction the Eluvian had disappeared to. “Maybe I will,” she said seriously.

“Mama, Daddy!” Theron said, pulling on Merrill’s arm. “Look!” Theron pointed at a crude house of sticks and leaves he had built in the mud. (The same mud, Merrill noticed, which was all over her son’s clothes) For a three year old, it was very impressive.

“Oh, it’s lovely, da’len,” Merrill said, thoughts of the Eluvian temporarily pushed to the back of her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was supposed to be a scene after this of Morrigan and Merrill nerding out over Eluvians, but it was giving me too much trouble. I'll see if I can work it as a stand alone prompt.


	32. Merrill at Skyhold, Part 2

**Unprompted: Merrill at Skyhold, Part 2**

 

“Tell me again why we’re out here in the gardens in the middle of the night?” Varric asked half-heartedly, having resigned himself to not getting an answer that wasn't completely inane.

“I told you,” Hawke replied, “Merrill just needs a closer look, and we can’t pick locks.”

“Right, and I’m sure the Witch of the Wilds won’t mind us poking around,” the dwarf said with a sigh. He turned to Merrill, who was scouting out the empty gardens nervously, as if someone might walk in on them at any time. “You’re fascination with creepy mirrors hasn’t exactly worked out well for you in the past, Daisy. Are you sure you want to start again now?”

Merrill gently bit her lip. She knew that the mirror had caused her so much grief over the years, including the death of her entire clan. So much blood, and nothing to show for it. Part of her was glad when she left it on Isabela’s ship for safe keeping. She needed to be away from it, if only for a while. And yet here, behind a locked door, was an Eluvian that was not only whole but, if rumor was to be believed, fully functioning. She couldn’t let that go. She had to see.

“I’m sure, Varric,” she said softly.

Varric shook his head gently and began to fish for his lock picks. “All right, but if I end up being turned into a toad, I’m blaming you two,” he said jokingly. Having found the picks, he stepped towards the door, but was stopped when Hawke put his arm in front of him.

“Wait, we should check for magical traps, first,” he said. Varric grimaced, as if he had only just remembered that they were dealing with a witch’s door. Hawke and Merrill stepped forward, their hands gently glowing blue as they slowly passed them across the door.

“Hmm, that’s interesting,” Merrill muttered as her hands passed near the door knob, the light in her hands beginning to flash. Hawke passed his hands near the area as well.

“I don’t think I’ve seen a ward quite like this before,” Hawke commented.

“It’s Elven,” Merrill explained. “Keeper Marethari…” she coughed, working passed a slight constriction in her throat. Even after all this time, thinking about her Keeper was still hard. “She told me about wards like this.” She curled her hand around the doorknob, the glow in her hands turning a bright green. She slowly gestured across the door, the light in her hands pulsating erratically. She continued for a few minutes before finally settling her hands down.

“It’s not working,” she said, dismayed. “What was the correct pattern again? I can’t remember.” As she probed the ward more deeply, Merrill suddenly realized that the ward could be broken easily if she used blood magic. She hesitated, not as willing to reach for the knife as she once was. She hadn’t used blood magic since the Red Templars attacked them months ago, and that had been the first time since leaving Kirkwall. Since she stopped using it as often, the spirits had become quieter, less aggressive, as if they no longer saw her as an easy target. She wasn’t sure if it was worth the risk of attracting their attention again just to open a door.

Merrill set the thought aside. She would wait to bring it up until after she had exhausted all other options. “It was a symbol of one of the Gods, wasn’t it?” Merrill wondered to herself. It sounded right. She ran her hands to form the pattern of Dirthamen, and when that failed, she tried the pattern of several of Dirthamen’s valaisin. None of them worked. It was clearly not the Keeper of Secrets guarding the door. _Wait, guarding_ … She tried again, working through the tree shape of Mythal’s symbol until finally she felt the ward collapse under her fingers. She smiled at her success. Of course the Great Protector would be guarding the door.

“It should be safe now, Varric.”

Varric looked at the door cautiously. “Are you sure you got them all?” he asked.

“If there’s more, they’re well hidden,” Merrill said. She cringed as she realized what she said. “That’s not exactly encouraging, is it?”

“Not exactly, no,” Varric answered, apologetic. “But if anyone could spot them all, it’s you, Daisy.” Summoning up his nerve, he kneeled in front of the door, working his lock picks into the keyhole. There was the sound of something tumbling, then a click, and the door cracked open. “Remind me to tell the Inquisitor that he needs to put better locks on the doors. That was too easy.”

Merrill was the first through the open door, and gasped when she saw what was inside. Too big to hide, the Eluvian was displayed proudly at the end of the room. “It’s beautiful,” she said, almost reverently, as she walked towards it.

“Wow. I didn’t know they came in that size,” Hawke said, impressed. Merrill, who had already made it halfway across the room, turned around.

“Can’t you feel it? The energy coming off it?” Hawke scrunched his face in concentration, before nodding. “It’s working! A really, working Eluvian!” Merrill was so giddy, she almost felt like she could just float away. She stepped forward towards the mirror’s black glass, hand outstretched.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Daisy,” Varric tried to caution.

“I would listen to your friend,” Morrigan’s voice called out from behind them.

“…Shit,” Varric muttered under his breath, a feeling shared by them all. They turned around, moving slowly, as if trying not to provoke a viscous beast. Hawke was the first to recover.

“Morrigan! How are you doing this fine evening?” he said cheerfully, laying on the charm rather thickly. He had obviously taken the fact that they weren’t already toads as a good sign.

“I was doing quite well,” she answered with cool politeness, “until I noticed three scoundrels breaking into my store room.”

“Three scoundrels, you say? Well, if I see any, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

“Garrett, not now,” Merrill whispered. He turned to Morrigan. “I’m sorry, I just… wanted to… look…” She faltered as Morrigan turned her gaze on her. Creators, but that woman was intimidating!

“And so you break in here in the middle of the night? Seems… most unlikely.”

“So, what,” Hawke asked, “do you think we were going to just come in here and… walk out with it? That mirror’s not exactly mobile, you know.”

“No, it is not.” Morrigan studied them carefully. “You are Merrill, are you not? The elf from Varric’s tale?” Her voice no longer had the bite it did earlier, now sounding merely curious.

Merrill startled at being recognized. “Yes?” she squeaked.

“Varric, what exactly did you write about her?” Hawke whispered behind her.

“Hmm,” Morrigan contemplated, ignoring Hawke’s and Varric’s whispered discussion. “I wonder why you wish to study my mirror when you have one of your own.”

“But my Eluvian never worked!” Merrill blurted.

“No, it did not,” Morrigan said. “You spent such effort to fix your Eluvian, and now you want to know how I fixed mine.” She spoke slowly, as if she were thinking something over.

“Well, yes,” Merrill answered honestly. She sighed. “Oh, I’ve made a mess of this, haven’t I? We should probably be going.”

“Hold a moment, if you’d please,” Morrigan said, holding up a hand. Hawke and Varric stopped their quiet argument, perhaps wondering if Morrigan was going to turn them into toads after all. “It has been so long since I’ve met one as inquisitive as myself. Perhaps we could both benefit from an exchange of ideas.”

“What? You mean… You’d tell me how you fixed the Eluvian?” Merrill said, shocked but happily, ignoring the worrying looks Varric was giving her. Merrill had no illusions that the information would come for free, but if it meant learning how to fix her own mirror, she would gladly give up a few Dalish secrets.

Morrigan stepped forward, a glaze of blue magic along her arms that sent the three of them scrambling out of her way. She pushed her arms forward, and a burst of light hit the Eluvian, turning the glass into the same blue color.

“’Twould be easier for me to show you,” she said, smiling enigmatically. She walked towards the Eluvian, gesturing them to follow before passing through the mirror’s surface.

Merrill squeaked like a child who had gotten all her name day presents at once. “Garrett, did you see that?” she babbled excitedly. “It works! It really works!”

Hawke smiled and took Merrill’s hands. “Come on. We shouldn’t keep out host waiting.” Merrill smiled and gripped his hands tighter, leading him to the mirror’s surface.

“Wait, are you sure this is a good idea?” Varric tried to caution, but his plea fell on deaf ears, and the couple had already stepped through before the dwarf could even finish. “Shit. I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?” he said, and stepped into the Eluvian after them.


	33. La Petite Mort (The Little Death)

**Prompt: A Little Death**

“Your teasing will be the death of me,” Herah complained hoarsely, hands grasping desperately for the buttons on the back of Josephine’s dress. Josephine smiled and leaned in to whisper into her ear, her hot breath making Herah shiver.

“Only a little death, my lady,” she said, voice dripping with innuendo. Herah let out a shuddering moan and pulled Josephine into another rough kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who don't know, la petite mort (the little death) is a French euphemism for orgasm.


	34. Dragon Slayer

**Unprompted: Dragon Slayer**

 

 

Edric didn’t know how it had gone so wrong so fast. What was supposed to have been a trip to get a snowy wyvern heart turned into a disaster when a high dragon swooped down landed right in front of them.

“Shit,” Varric said, staring at the beast in horrified awe.

“Do you think if we back away slowly, she won’t notice us?” Dorian asked hopefully? As if in answer, the high dragon let forth an ear-splitting screech and jumped towards them. “We have all the luck, don’t we?” he said as they scrambled out of its way.

“Quick, find cover!” Cassandra barked as she ran left away from the group, bashing her sword against her shield to gain the dragon’s attention. Edric unsheathed his greatsword and followed right, aiming to strike at the Dragon’s other side. The dragon looked between the two charging warriors, seemingly unable to decide which was the more immediate threat, before finally turning towards Cassandra. The dragon snapped at her, head bashing twice into her shield before it jumped around, trying to get behind her.

Edric followed behind it, striking at the Dragon’s back leg. The hide was tough, but even dragon scales will give way when struck repeatedly with a greatsword, and the leg began to bleed. The dragon huffed what sounded like annoyance, and swiped its tail at him, forcing him to duck. The dragon turned around, mouth open. Knowing a dragon about to spit fire when he saw one, Edric jumped out of the way.

Only it wasn’t fire, but lightning that arced into the water. Edric heard a scream behind him, and turned to see Dorian struggling to step out of the water as electricity arced across his body. Edric rushed over to help, only to remember that his metal suit in the water would only make things worse for them both. Dorian climbed onto land on his own, struggling for breath.

“Helpful tip,” he wheezed, “Stay out of the water.”

Edric heard the dragon’s massive footsteps behind him. “Varric, cover Dorian,” he commanded, before rushing off to face the dragon. He screamed loudly and incoherently at the beast and slashed at its front leg, while Cassandra struck at the back. It raised its leg to strike at him, forcing him to dodge to the other side, where he started to hack at the other leg.

Having clearly had enough of them, the dragon spread its wings and took flight. For a brief moment, Edric hoped that the dragon had decided that they were more trouble than they were worth and decided to move on. That hope was soon dashed when the dragon turned back around, spitting lightning indiscriminately at the ground. The group scattered, trying to dodge the bolts as they came. Dorian, still injured from before, couldn’t move fast enough, and took a bolt directly to the chest, paralyzing him to the ground.

The dragon turned around, intending to make a second pass, but a lucky shot from Bianca bit deep into the dragon’s shoulders. The wing on that side immediately weakened, and the dragon spiraled as it desperately tried to stay in the air. Abandoning staying airborne, the dragon angled back towards the ground, aiming directly at Varric. The dragon breathed electricity as it passed, striking a direct blow. Varric dropped Bianca as his arms spasmed and he fell to the ground, unconscious.

The dragon landed ungracefully not far away, and Edric and Cassandra rushed towards it, hoping to strike before it regained its standing. Cassandra sliced at the dragon’s back, while he took the front legs, and the dragon howled. It raised its back leg, preparing to kick Cassandra away. Before Edric could so much as cry out to warn her, the dragon’s leg came crashing down. At the last moment, the transparent blue of a barrier flashed across her, and the blow deflected off of her, the barrier taking most of the force. Cassandra stumbled, but was otherwise uninjured. He turned around to see Dorian, panting and leaning heavily on his staff, but smiling, before he slumped onto the ground and passed out.

After that, the two of them took turns distracting the dragon, striking where they could. It seemed to be working, and the dragon seemed to noticeably weaken. But the long battle had exhausted them, and when the dragon’s tail came crashing down on him, Edric found that he couldn’t move fast enough. He was sent sprawling to the ground, sword clattering some distance away. He scrambled desperately for his sword, but the dragon placed a foot on top of his chest, crushing him into place. He stared up into the dragon’s maw, realizing that this was it. This dragon was going to eat him, and that was that.

“NO! YOU CANNOT HAVE HIM!” Edric lifted his head just in time to see Cassandra, her face as fearsome as he’s ever seen, stabbing her sword through the dragon’s left wing, near the joint. The dragon screamed in agony as she stabbed the wing a second time, and the wing fell limp to the ground, unable to do more than twitch and bleed. Cassandra must have severed the tendons, he realized distantly. The dragon lifted the leg from Edric’s chest and turned to face the new threat, screaming in rage. With the weight lifted, Edric tried to get up, but he could only manage a sitting position, and even that was painful.

The dragon heaved, breathing its electrified breath, but Cassandra put up her shield and reflected most of it back. The dragon raged at being assaulted with its own breath, and snapped at her in retaliation. Cassandra spun effortlessly out of the way, before assaulting the dragon’s neck. It screamed and jumped back away from her blows. Droplets of blood dripped from where her sword had cut.

Cassandra charged forward under the dragon’s belly, slicing at its legs as she passed. The legs finally gave way, unable to support the dragon’s massive weight, and the dragon whined pitifully as it tried to get up. Cassandra straddled the dragon’s neck, holding on as it snapped its head back and forth, and plunged her sword into the back of the dragon’s head. The dragon squealed, lashing out desperately with its good wing, but Cassandra held on, pressing deeper until the wing fell to the ground, and the dragon fell silent.

As soon as the dragon stopped moving, she dismounted and ran in his direction. “Edric! Edric, are you all right?”

The Inquisitor’s eyes moved back and forth between Cassandra and the corpse of the high dragon behind her. “You killed a dragon,” he said, sounding almost giddy. “You really are a force of nature, aren’t you?” he added, smiling loopily.

Cassandra stared at him for a moment before turning to their other companions. Dorian was still on the ground, although beginning to stir, while Varric had managed to get up and was heading towards them. “Varric, help me with the Inquisitor. I think the dragon might have hit his head harder than I thought.”


	35. Never Let Me Go (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original Kink Meme Prompt:  
> I need teary post-here lies the abyss reunion with these apostate nerds. Anders crying and hugging her because he’s so happy she's alive which makes Hawke cry because she loves him so much and thank god he was ok while she was gone.

Marian shivered as she trudged along the wounded coast. The spray off the Waking Sea had soaked through her cloak, and now it was worse than useless. She picked up her pace, trying to get to her destination faster: a small cave opening in the cliffs, facing sideways from the sea so as to shelter it from most of the wind. She strained her gaze through the sea’s spray, searching for any sign of habitation, but found none she could see from the outside. _Of course you wouldn’t_ , she berated herself. _Anders knows how to hide._ Yet the thought did nothing to calm her nerves. She knew that they were supposed to meet here, but what if something happened? What if he couldn’t make it? Detained, or worse. Didn’t someone at Skyhold say that the Red Templars had a base not a few days march to the west? What if- No. She couldn’t think about that.

She looked around the entrance when she arrived, but aside from a few skittish nugs, it looked deserted. Forcing down her growing desperation, she stepped further inside, exploring deeper into the cave. She didn’t have to travel far before she felt the first sign of anything unusual: the slight tingle of magic on her skin, and an almost imperceptible humming. As she rounded the corner, she found the source: someone had erected a barrier, blocking access further in. Marian slumped in relief. If the barrier was here, Anders must still be behind it.

She knocked her staff on the walls of the cave. “Anders, are you in there?” she called out. She waited, but heard no response. “Anders, it’s me,” she called again. “I’m…” Her voice broke slightly. “I’m back.” Finally she heard muffled footsteps from behind the barrier. A shadow appeared around a corner, and Anders followed soon after. She could tell he hadn’t been taking care of himself while she was gone. His clothes were ragged and muddy, and his stubble had grown out into an unkempt beard, and his unwashed hair now fell past his shoulders. Marian chocked down a lump in her throat, wanting nothing more than to crash through the barrier and make sure he was all right.

“Marian?” Anders’ voice was dry and cracked from lack of use. In an instant, the barrier was down. In another, they crashed against each other, embracing one another tightly, as if afraid this was a dream; that if they let go, the other would be gone. “Marian,” Anders whispered softly, the name like a prayer on his lips. “Marian.” She felt a dampness on her shoulder, and she did not need to look to know that he was crying. She held him tighter, blinking back her own tears.

“I’ve missed you,” Marian whispered, feeling an ache finally lift from her chest. Maker, she missed him, even if he did smell like an unwashed mabari. Now that he was back in her arms, she could not fathom how she had managed to be away for so long.


	36. Family

Marian sat on a bench at the edge of Skyhold’s garden, exhausted. She had just delivered her report of that she saw in the Western Approach, and now the Inquisitor and her advisors were trying to decide what to do with her information. She was rather glad that no one seemed to notice when she slipped out; she didn’t think she could take any more of their arguing. The garden in contrast was blessedly quiet, with only a few people wandering the pathways. She closed her eyes, enjoying the moment’s peace.

She couldn’t have been sitting there long when she felt a presence slide into the bench next to her. She sighed inwardly, deeply hoping that it wasn’t some sycophant hoping to tell their friends that they spoke to the Champion. Yet when she opened her eyes, she saw instead a small boy, no older than nine or ten, swinging his legs and humming quietly to himself. “Well, hello,” she said kindly.

The boy looked up, as if noticing her for the first time, and smiled shyly. “Hello,” he answered. He looked into her face, studying her for a moment, and Marian felt vaguely uncomfortable under his piercing gaze. “You’re the Champion,” he said not long after. Marian bit back a sigh.

“I don’t like to go by that title anymore,” she said, trying not to sound too bitter in front of the boy.

“Because of what happened to Kirkwall?” he asked. Marin looked up, surprised. This little boy was far too wise for someone his age.

“You could say that,” she answered evasively.

The boy studied her for a moment longer, before saying, “I thought you’d be scarier. You don’t look like you defeated the Arishok and a hundred Qunari all by yourself.” Marian sighed, but smiled despite herself.

“You’ve been listening to Varric haven’t you?” The boy nodded. “You shouldn’t take everything he says so seriously. He likes to exaggerate.”

“So you didn’t kill a hundred Qunari?”

“It was more like twenty, and I wasn’t by myself.” Marian had to resist laughing at the boy’s wide eyed expression.

“That’s still a lot of Qunari,” he said.

“I suppose that’s true,” she conceded. She looked up to see the Inquisitor marching through the gardens, the large Qunari clearly irritated by something, likely the heated arguments Marian left behind in the war room. The ambassador, Josephine, trailed behind her, trying to sooth whatever it was that was bothering her.

“I feel sad for what happened to the Qunari,” the boy said suddenly, drawing her gaze back to him.

“The Arishok?” To be quite honest, she sometimes felt the same. It didn’t have to end the way it did. After Isabela left with the tome, everything just went to the void.

The boy shook his head. “Their blood doesn’t belong to them. I feel bad for what happened to their people.”

That, she admitted, was a very odd thing for a child to say. She began to wonder just whose kid this was. She didn’t remember there being that many children at Skyhold to begin with. “So what’s your name?” she asked, trying to change the subject. “I don’t believe we met before.”

“Oh, sorry,” he said bashfully. “I’m Kieran.”

 _Kieran. That would make him Morrigan’s son, wouldn’t it?_ Hawke thought. She could see the resemblance, and it would certainly explain quite a lot about him. Growing up as the son of a Witch of the Wilds could hardly have meant a normal childhood.

Kieran looked at her thoughtfully for a moment before saying, “Father said you’re an Amell. You are, aren’t you?” He looked up, curiosity dancing in his eyes.

“Yes, that’s right. My Mother was an Amell.” Marian eyes knitted together as she wondered why he would ask such a question, and just who the boy’s father was.

Kieran smiled brightly. “Father’s an Amell, too!” he said, obviously pleased.

 _Wait, what?_ His Father was an Amell, how? She suddenly had the ridiculous thought of Uncle Gamlen having an illegitimate son that he never told them about, but quickly dismissed that notion. “Really?” she asked, trying not to sound too confused, or too eager. “Who is your father?”

“Daylen Amell,” he answered, somewhat uncomfortably, likely not used to calling his father by his given name. Marian struggled to remember why that name sounded so familiar. Daylen. Wasn’t that-

“ _The Hero of Fereldan!_ ” she breathed sharply. “You’re father’s the Hero of Fereldan?” Her mind reeled at the implication when the boy gave a nod confirming her statement. She had been meaning to get into contact with her lost cousin for years, but something always managed to interfere. Always some disaster that needed to be averted, and organizing a family reunion had always fallen to the bottom of the pile. Now she had his son sitting next to her in the gardens. She didn’t even know he had a son… No, that wasn’t true. Anders had mentioned something about how the Hero was searching for a witch and their child when Anders was at Amaranthine all those years ago. She supposed he must have found them.

“I suppose this makes us family, then,” she said experimentally. Family. She hadn’t expected to find any here, yet here he was. She felt almost giddy at the thought, not unlike how she felt when she met her cousin Charade for the first time a few years back. If only Carver was here… but no, it was for the best that Carver wasn’t mixed up with in this Grey Warden debacle.

Kieran nodded. “Yes. Father talked about you sometimes, after you became Champion. That’s when he first found out you were family.”

Marian smiled widely. “Of course, if we’re going to be family,” Marian explained, “you can’t go around calling me ‘Champion.’ You can call me Aunt Marian.”

Kieran scrunched up his face slightly. “But you’re not my aunt, you’re my second cousin once removed,” he complained, frowning seriously.

Marian bit back a laugh, “Cousin Marian, then.” Kieran nodded, finding this acceptable. “Is your father here, Kieran?” she asked cautiously, and quickly regretted it. The sudden look of pure sadness on Kieran’s face was all the answer she would ever need.

“He left,” he said resignedly, “to find a cure for the Calling. He said that when he comes back, he won’t ever have to leave again.”

Marian found her thoughts turning to Anders, and the call of the Darkspawn that one day promised to take him away from her. That this little boy had to face that same fear… “I’m sorry. I hope he succeeds,” she says.

Kieran nodded. “Me too. I miss him so much.” He turned to look into the gardens, as if searching for someone, before turning back to Marian. “Mother misses him, too, but promise not to tell anyone.”

Marian smiled, and put a finger to her lips. “Not a word,” she promised.

“You’ll come to visit, won’t you? When Father comes back? Father always wanted to meet you.”

Marian had to choke back a lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat. “I think… I think I’d like that.” She has precious few family left. First Bethany, then Mother. And Anders, and their fragile hope lost to rivulets of blood between her legs. She would not let this chance slip through her fingers.

Kieran looked back out into the garden, still looking for someone (probably his mother, she thought), but quickly brought his eyes back to the ground, pouting distastefully. Marian followed his gaze curiously, and found that Josephine must have smoothed over whatever was bothering the Inquisitor, for they were now under the Gazebo, kissing passionately. “They’re worse than Mother and Father,” Kieran complained bitterly.

“Hey, Kieran?” she said, thinking of a good distraction. “Did Varric tell you about the time I went looking for the Gem Of Keroshek?” Kieran shook his head, looking up at her curiously. “Well, it all started with a visit to my Uncle Gamlen…”


	37. Once you have found her, never let her go

**Prompt: Once you have found her, never let her go**

 

“Dorian, I’m in over my head.”

Dorian looked up from the book he was reading to find Inquisitor Adaar thumping herself into the library chair across from him, the Qunari mage looking absolutely exhausted. “Ah, Inquisitor. Something I can help you with?”

Herah shut her eyes and sank deeper into the chair. “Probably not,” she said miserably, and Dorian couldn't help but notice the pained look the Inquisitor was trying desperately to hide.

"Herah," he began, suddenly serious, "I'm not sure what's bothering you, but if there's anything I can do, let me know, would you? It's the least I can do."

"I know, Dorian, thank you." Herah smiled, but it was hollow, and didn't reach her eyes. She sat in silence for a while, and Dorian decided not to pry. Eventually, Herah found the strength to continue. “It’s… Josephine.”

Ah, that would explain it. The Inquisitor and their Ambassador had become very close over the last few months, but in the last week that all changed. They had become overly formal and distant in public, and even the Inquisition’s common soldiers had begun to notice that something was amiss. “Our dear ambassador didn’t break your heart, I hope?”

“What, no!” Herah bolted upright, sounding offended at the mere idea, yet he could see a shadow of uncertainty creep past her eyes. Dorian stayed silent, carefully considering his words. Maker knew he wasn't exactly a font of wisdom when it came to relationships. Yet, Herah was his friend. A far better friend than he ever expected to find anywhere, whether down south or up north, and if she was hurting, he wanted to help.

“But, are you afraid that she will?” he asked cautiously. A bit too blunt a question, now that he thought about it, but too late for regrets now.

Herah leveled a scathing glare at him. “It’s not like that!” She insisted. “She’s engaged!” Dorian raised an eyebrow, but Herah didn’t seem to notice, too caught up in the pent up frustration that was quickly bubbling forth. “Her parents engaged her to some ‘Lord Otranto of Antivan’ and didn’t even bother to tell her until they’ve already done it! Who does that?”

Dorian bit his tongue before he could say anything snarky about arranged marriages. Now wasn’t the time. “Surely our Lady Ambassador must have found some way out of this predicament,” he said instead.

“Nothing that won’t take months or… or years! Not without hurting her family.” Herah laid back into her chair, deflated. “The only way to resolve this quickly is to challenge Otranto to a duel, and, well…”

Dorian’s eyes widened in realization. “You didn’t!”

Herah leaned forward, burying her face in her hands. “I did,” she said sheepishly. “And now I have to duel him in Val Royeaux, and I don’t know what to do. I only know how to fight with magic, and I’m sure they’d consider that cheating.” Suddenly she popped her head out from her hands. “Dorian, do you think Cassandra could teach me?”

“Cassandra? Well, sure, if you wanted to hack and slash your opponent to pieces.” The Inquisitor stared out the window to the dummies that Cassandra normally trained at, a serious look on her face. “Which would be completely inappropriate, of course,” he felt obligated to point out.

“What? Oh, yes. Sure, sure,” she said unconvincingly. She closed her eyes and thumped back into her chair, coming dangerously close to poking the back through with her horns. “Maker, what am I going to do?” Dorian found that he didn’t have an answer.

Unknown to either of them, a cowled figure stood unseen in the shadows of the rookery above them, watching.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Inquisitor found herself strolling the Gardens early the next morning. She and Josephine used to do this every morning, but ever since the engagement, it suddenly became too improper a public display. She was forced to take these walks alone now. She still simmered at the injustice of it all. Never before had she been so tempted to hack and slash an opponent to pieces, but she would restrain herself, for Josephine’s sake.

She was disturbed from her thoughts by a passing shadow. When she looked up, she found Leliana in front of her, waiting patiently. “Inquisitor, may I have a word in private?”

“Of course,” she answered politely, curious what this was all about. “What do you need?”

Leliana motioned her to follow into one of the nearby empty guest rooms. Once inside, she gestured to a nearby chair. Herah hesitated before moving to sit down. Leliana took her own chair and moved it to face her own. Herah couldn’t shake the feeling that she was about to be interrogated.

“I just had some questions,” Leliana began, “about why you asked me to look into Lord Adorno Ciel Otranto of Antiva.”

Herah froze, and that’s when she noticed it: the tiny upward smirk of Leliana’s lips. She knew. She knew about the duel. Of course she did, Leliana knows everything. It was pointless to try to hide it from her. “About the duel, you mean?”

Leliana’s smile grew fractionally larger. “You give up your hand far too easily, Inquisitor. Yes, the duel.

“You… haven’t told Josephine about it, have you?” she asked, suddenly nervous. She knew Josephine would never approve. It hurt to go behind her back to do this, but it needed to be done.

The smile vanished. “Not yet, but I see no reason why I shouldn’t. She would be so angry with you, if she knew.”

“I know, but… but I have to do this, Leliana!” Herah tried her best not to sound desperate, and failed utterly. “I can’t take the chance that she’ll have to marry him. I… I can’t lose her!” Maker, it had only been a week, and she could already feel herself falling apart. She couldn’t imagine what would happen if she lost her completely.

Leliana stared at her for what felt like a long time. Then suddenly, she felt something in the air change. When she looked up, she could see that the fractional smile had returned to Leliana’s face.

“Good,” Leliana said suddenly, standing back up. “Now come. We have a lot to do before you’re ready, and we don’t have much time.”

Herah stared uncomprehendingly at her. “…What.”

Leliana reached toward her back, and for the first time Herah noticed that instead of her normal bow and arrow, she wore a pair of wooden training rapiers. She tossed one to her, which she barely caught, fumbling with it ungracefully. Leliana had her own sword balanced delicately in her hand.

“Certainly you weren’t expecting to swing your spirit blade about like this was some common foe, did you?” she asked, sounding almost playful. Herah stood up quickly, knocking the chair over in the process, but unable to bring herself to care, focusing only on Leliana.

“You’re going to teach me to duel,” she breathed, still in a daze at how quickly everything was moving.

“I can’t let you lose, now can I? Josie would be devastated.” Herah gripped her rapier tighter as she imagined just that scenario. She couldn’t let that come to pass. She wouldn’t. She brought up her sword, and Leliana did the same.

“Let’s get started, then.”


	38. Spare him his life from this monstrosity

**Prompt: Spare him his life from this monstrosity**

 

“Viscount, I have another letter for you from Prince Sebastian of Starkhaven.”

Viscount Varric leaned forward in his chair and rubbed a hand to his forehead, sighing heavily. “Andraste’s tits, Bran, what have I told you about those? Just put it in the pile with the others, I’ll deal with it later.”

“By which you mean you won’t deal with it at all.”

“Oh, that’s not true. They make nice paper cranes.” He picked up some papers and began to shuffle through them, pointedly ignoring his seneschal.

Bran closed his eyes and muttered something under his breath that Varric didn’t catch, but which he doubted was complimentary. When he opened his eyes again, he looked straight at the dwarf. “You’ll want to look at this one,” he gritted out. “Prince Sebastian plans to make a state visit to Kirkwall sometime in the next few months.”

Varric dropped the papers, letting them scatter across his desk. “You’re shitting me.”

“It appears he has grown tired of you ignoring his letters.” Varric could swear he could see a hint of a smile on Bran’s face, the smug bastard.

“Does he really think we’ll let him in after the shit he tried to pull?”

“We have not been at war with Starkhaven for years, if you do recall. Prince Sebastian has issued a formal apology, and has sent reparations-”

Varric threw his hands into the air. “That’s not the point! Shit, can’t we just drop those giant chains over the harbor when he gets here?”

Bran looked visibly pale at the suggestion, and held out an arm to the wall to support himself. “Kirkwall can ill afford to cause such an incident with Starkhaven!”

“Doesn’t the Inquisitor have the key to the city? We can say we were letting her try it out.”

Bran wiped some sweat from his brow. “Viscount, please, I must advise against this course of action.”

Varric looked up thoughtfully. “You’re right, no one will buy it. Everyone knows that the Inquisitor is in Antiva with Ruffles.” Suddenly Varric’s eyes lit up. “Yes, that’s it! Bran, tell Sebastian that I won’t be able to meet him because I’ll be in trade negotiations with the Montilyet family.”

“…Excuse me?”

“Never mind, I’ll write it myself. I’m the better liar, anyway.” Already Varric was pulling out his quill and inkpot, preparing to get to work. “I hope you don’t have any more surprises for me.”

Bran blinked at him, a dazed look in his eyes. “I… no. I’ll leave you to you’re work.” Bran bowed stiffly before leaving. Bran turned right to his office, but as soon as the doors to the Viscount’s office closed, he turned around, heading to see Guard Captain Aveline. If anyone could rein in that dwarf, it was her.


	39. In Death, Sacrifice

**Unprompted: In Death, Sacrifice**

 

Anders heard Hawke’s slow footsteps approach behind him, his feet cracking on the ash-covered ground. “Anders, what have you done,” he sighed wearily. All of his normal humor was gone, having disappeared the moment the Chantry had exploded.

“There’s nothing you can say that I haven’t already said to myself,” Anders replied bitterly. “Vengeance… took me over. I couldn’t stop him. Justice once told me that demons are just spirits perverted by their desires. I made my friend a demon, and he did this.” He looked up to the smoldering ruins of the chantry. Perverting his friend was the least of his crimes, now.

“Do not hide behind your spirit!” he heard Sebastian spit angrily behind him. “It was your hand that did this!” Anders couldn’t argue. It was his hands that placed the explosives in the chantry, his lies that had gotten Hawke to help him search for the ingredients he needed. A last minute change of heart did not undo those things. There was only one thing left for him to do. He couldn’t do it himself, Justice wouldn’t let him, but Hawke, he could…

“Hawke, please,” he begged. “If I can’t control Vengeance now, I never will. Please, kill me now before there is nothing left of me.”

Hawke was silent for a long moment, and Anders felt his heart racing in his chest in anticipation. Finally, Hawke let out a long sigh. “Maker. Why does it always have to be me?” he asked wearily.

“If I’d been in that Chantry today, would you be waffling?” Sebastian demanded. “You know what must be done!”

Anders heard another set of footsteps approach, and for a moment, he thought it was Sebastian, coming to do the job himself. When he looked up, however, he instead saw Merrill stepping next to Hawke, placing a hand on his arm. “You don’t have to do this,” she said. “He can come with us, help us make things right.”

Anders looked up, an odd look doubtlessly on his face. Part of him couldn’t believe that Merrill would defend him, after everything… But no, this was exactly just like her, wasn’t it? Poor, naïve Merrill. “There’s no way I can make this right, Merrill. I wish there was.” He looked up at Hawke, pleading.

“He wants to die.” He heard Fenris add. “Kill him and be done with it.” He never thought he’d ever agree with Fenris, but, well, there was a first time for everything. Perhaps if Hawke didn’t… He looked at Hawke, and saw him flickering his gaze between Anders and Merrill, doubt clear in his eyes. He was quiet for a long moment, thinking, which was quite unusual in his experience. Finally, he let out another long sigh.

“He’s right. I don’t think that he can, Merrill.”

Anders felt some muted emotion at that. Relief, perhaps? He couldn’t tell anymore. Merrill, by contrast, was clearly disappointed in both of them. For a moment he thought she might argue, but instead she just turned away, shaking her head sadly. Anders couldn’t help but feel vaguely guilty, although what for, he couldn’t say.

“I’m sorry, Anders,” Hawke said, turning his attention away from Merrill. “I wish it didn’t have to come to this.” There was sadness in Hawke’s eyes, but also a clarity and determination that wasn’t there earlier. This was it, then. He wished he could feel something about that other than overwhelming exhaustion and the constant murmurings of Vengeance.

“I know,” he said weakly. “But… thank you.” Slowly, Hawke pulled out his knife from his belt. It was the same knife that Hawke used for his blood magic, and Anders used to hate it passionately. Yet now, it appeared to him as a shining instrument of justice, and Anders thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

Andes barely felt the blade as it penetrated his back, greedily sucking the blood out from his veins. It did, however, feel as though the dagger had punched the air from his lungs, and he struggled to regain his breath, the air coming only in short, sad gasps. The world began to swim in front of him, and he fell forward, no longer having the strength to keep himself upright. Hawke’s grip on the dagger was tight, and it tore itself out as he fell, deepening the gash in his back. He could feel the blood oozing out, to the extent that he could feel anything at all.

As the world darkened around him, he finally, at long last, found himself at peace.


End file.
